i don’t know how often it changes…or what would make it change but…do me a favor, go to google and put in “black women” then click images.

i need a moment to grope for words because of all the beautiful black women i know, of all the artwork and images i’ve seen in my life, lil kim’s crotch was not what came to mind, nor some other woman’s behind extended out so prominently that her face is almost invisible.

and i sank a little inside…reading between the lines of internet and radio and rap lyrics and imus…and what i am – my blackness – my womanhood – reduced to an assembly of parts.

and where is the beauty, the vulnerability, the strength, the poetry, the soft curves, and steely resolve? where…for the love of all things black and beautiful, for the love of things that reflect my own thoughts of myself…where am i?

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