Crowns On Our Heads

If my ancestors were here
They would slap me silly
Asking me
Child... what on earth did you do to your hair
They would sit me down and begin to massage my head heavy with lies
As they tell me tales of how we wore our hair
Like crowns on our heads no longer bare
We wore our hair to introduce ourselves without saying a word

Different roles in society once determined our hair cut's height or length
Distinguishing tribes, age groups, social classes, marital status or spiritual strength
I would swell with pride once they would show me how their cornrows
Were secret maps for my people
Routes meant for escape
How cool is that
Like when was the last time you de-coded someone's hair
Or coded yours to say something like I'm going east, follow me
Or I'm heading north but it's not safe so don't go with me
Don't get me started about how we hid gold and grain in our braids
As a way to survive in a foreign land
After being delivered from the chains of being another man's slave

I imagine how my forefathers would turn their backs on me
Showing me their diverse braidings
Letting me touch their hair and feel into the red clay, animal fat and natural oils
That shaped their crowns into forms like sculptors made by human hands
I would remain with the texture of organic feels all through my hands
And a crown on my head where once stood an ill-treated- underappreciated pile of follicle
Underneath it a wealth of knowledge I didn't have before

And now that I have made peace with my history
I can see my future through the lens of equality
I'm taking back my pride without asking nicely
Because it wasn't meant to be taken in the first place
Whether or not it's served with heartfelt apologies
For all the shaved heads, whipped backs and mental baggage
All the name-calling and emotional damage

May our conversations today and tomorrow be seasoned with truth
I want my tongue to feel the aftertaste of a paradigm shift on the roof of my mouth
When my children's children laugh with their children
About how absurd the things we grew up with as norms sound like myths to them
Detached from the thought that being black was ever a burden and not a blessing
That having ebony coloured skin and nappy hair was anything short of glorious
I pray to live long enough to wave goodbye to the wind of an old mentality that rocked our boats for so long
Stepping out of the boat has us walking on water
Braving a storm that did not rage hard enough to wipe out our name

We are not lesser than or greater than
We are enough in every single way that we are ourselves
And so is everyone else