must be the gods’ black
I am, unfortunately, down and out with the flu this week. Please enjoy a creative piece instead of new commentary. This was an assignment to describe beauty without using the word. I think it’s the perfect piece to usher in Black History Month.
she had that black skin that was much deeper than the blacks from savannah, memphis, or new orleans—places where they say the sun don’t show no mercy on the backs of colored folk who belonged to slaves. you could tell that she wasn’t blackened by no angry, punishing sun. it was like her color came from gods who grew tired of pinks and yellows, tawnies and terra cottas. she wore the color of the sky before it knew stars and moon, and when they arrived, situated themselves behind her lips only to shine when she parted them. there were no lines, no flaws in the darkness that blanketed her body which she sometimes clothed in printed cottons or pieces of matching mud cloth. but I preferred her nakedness and its enviable endlessness of the color from which I came. that blackness untouched, untainted, and Righteous.