This is an after poem I wrote, inspired by poet Clint Smith. His original poem, "My Jump Shot" can be found in this website: https://www.wbur.org/hereandnow/2016/11/28/clint-smith-poetry I highly recommend reading his poetry collection Counting Descent, other poetry and articles published in journals like The Atlantic. He discusses the "Black experience" in America and racial justice in many of his poems.
My 4c hair be
black like vanilla.
My 4c hair be
a halo around my head.
My 4c hair be
more coily than curly.
My 4c hair be
almost as dense as osmium.
My 4c hair be
experiencing shrinkage to the point that it defies science.
My 4c hair be
so hard to comb and maintain.
My 4c hair be
painful for my tender head.
My 4c hair be
like silly putty for the kid behind me in class.
My 4c hair be
smelling like African shea butter and castor oil on the bus.
My 4c hair be
drinking up coconut oil and jojoba oil.
My 4c hair be
kept in protective styles most of the time.
My 4c hair be
wrapped in some straight blond hair that people think is mine too.
My 4c hair be
turning from nappy into *darling in 4-6 hours.
My 4c hair be
code-switching.
My 4c hair be
making people suspicious just because it’s 4c hair.
My 4c hair be
the only 4c hair in class.
My 4c hair be
short like the expectations they have for me.
My 4c hair be
seen as less beautiful than mixed girl hair.
My 4c hair be
too unprofessional for a formal event.
My 4c hair be
questioning it’s worth for a long time.
My 4c hair be
a tangle of history
My 4c hair be
the only 4c hair I’ve ever known.
*The hair bundles/extensions I buy for braids are from a Kenyan company called Darling
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