NO BONEA Poem Addressed to Black Folk who are alive in fat bodies in a fatphobic world.
Was I created with no bone?
Loving cheek pinches transform into prefiguring my life’s quality based on form and figure. There’re girls out there that like a big boy… Who you tryna convince? And I don’t want her… like that …but that story might ignite a new trigger. Am I only skin, flesh, fat, and nigga? To you. Unable to move, manage, or motivate… My body, heaviness, or self Via your appraisal. Was I created with no bone? Coming into era in a fat, Black body, stamped with tales of sweet crystals sent to kill me… And all I love. A life bastardized and reduced to big arms that must be fortified by cake batter… No mind. No soul. No bone. Am I just skin, flesh, fat, and nigga? To you. Where did you place my mind when you exchanged my life for a body…? That is hallow and full, all at once? Did you at least place my soul in a safe space, so you can find it again when you realize I am full…? And not just full figured? Did you throw my bones in the ocean to lay with ancestors seen as only skin, flesh, and nigga? Where did you place me when you chose to see my body and disregard my humanity? Am I just skin, flesh, fat, and nigga? To you. Was I born into fetish or adopted? Existing in a world that ejaculates bad news on my body for kinks is exhausting. I am more than just skin, flesh, fat, and nigga. To me. I am of chunky mind… plump soul… big bone. |
Photo sourced from Martinus Evans - @300poundsandrunning
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