"I love Hood Femmes
Gold doorknocker earrings
Three inch teal nails adorned in jewels that put any queen to shame.
Love your curves and
the way you cuss me with that mouth
Baby it's like you speak in tongues
Love Chola Femmes
The gorgeous gradient of rich brown lip pencil outlines
Into whispers of cream
You bring us all to our knees with a single glance shaded by lashes thick and plush.
And all the Desi Femmes dripping in gold outside and in
Layers of coal black hair
You are made of so many browns that strain against the imagination
You made us possible
And the more I stole glances of you, the more I could steal glances of me.
This landscape covered in snow
You were as hot and luminescent as the houses I passed one Diwali night in Trinidad.
With practiced poise, you arched eyebrows and slicked down baby hair.
Filling scentless hallways with life giving smells of turmeric, coconut and Calgon
And there were so many of us who were both, who were all, who were so many versions of
Pakistani Mama
Kenyan Papa
Cree Uncle
Korean Mother
Columbian Granny
Dominican Aunty
Our possibilities are endless in the ways we do Black, Yellow, Brown and Red
And there are so many femmes I haven't named who exist in technicolor
And I write these femmes because these were the ones in my hood
The ones who I studied
The ones I first loved at 15
Posted up at their respective corners at the intersection of Keele & Eglinton
And for the Femme Sisters from The Middle East, First Nations Femmes, Femmes from all across The Continent and all the femmes I have not named
I will work to learn you
And love you
And respect
If only from afar
And up close if I get the chance"
I am so blessed for every femme of colour space I have ever had. This world works so hard to diminish our glory, to pretend that they don't/can't/won't love us. As part of my decolonizing practice, I work to be humbled by your ugly and your beauty, to listen more and check my ego and to love you like my life depends on it - because it does.
And all the Desi Femmes dripping in gold outside and in
Layers of coal black hair
You are made of so many browns that strain against the imagination
You made us possible
And the more I stole glances of you, the more I could steal glances of me.
This landscape covered in snow
You were as hot and luminescent as the houses I passed one Diwali night in Trinidad.
With practiced poise, you arched eyebrows and slicked down baby hair.
Filling scentless hallways with life giving smells of turmeric, coconut and Calgon
And there were so many of us who were both, who were all, who were so many versions of
Pakistani Mama
Kenyan Papa
Cree Uncle
Korean Mother
Columbian Granny
Dominican Aunty
Our possibilities are endless in the ways we do Black, Yellow, Brown and Red
And there are so many femmes I haven't named who exist in technicolor
And I write these femmes because these were the ones in my hood
The ones who I studied
The ones I first loved at 15
Posted up at their respective corners at the intersection of Keele & Eglinton
And for the Femme Sisters from The Middle East, First Nations Femmes, Femmes from all across The Continent and all the femmes I have not named
I will work to learn you
And love you
And respect
If only from afar
And up close if I get the chance"
I am so blessed for every femme of colour space I have ever had. This world works so hard to diminish our glory, to pretend that they don't/can't/won't love us. As part of my decolonizing practice, I work to be humbled by your ugly and your beauty, to listen more and check my ego and to love you like my life depends on it - because it does.