Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is to be honesta contigo misma y remember the journey that you’ve embarked on that has created the version of you that is difficult to accept en el espejo.

“you were the girl pickin’ out her fro with a plastic pink pick until she felt the essence of the panthers.”

You were the girl defining aura for people without the definition. 

you were the power comprised in the seamless way your hips would move from side to side. 

you were the girl wearing baggy clothes to cover up the imperfections of her body.

you were embodied in the curves that you were gifted yet afraid of receiving. 

you were the slouch you succumbed to that held the weight of discomfort the world misplaced in your own skin.

…

Don’t tell me who I am. 

don’t ask. 

don’t tell me to remember,

I REMEMBER. 

Through 

every stumble, 

every stride,

every time I tried to hide, 

I REMEMBER. 

but do you really remember?

cuz you were the girl seeking validation everywhere else but within,

adjusting your clothes so the question of how much money you got was never one you felt the stares of, 

never wanting to let them see the sweat your life drips,  

never wanting to feel unwanted,

never wanting to be too much to not be enough, 

never wanting to be the girl with the tiring and unforgettable job of consistently overpowering the power.

I REMEMBER. 

You were the result of your daddy’s inability to heal, 

your mama’s grip on the past.

you were loved by the ones who were able to get close.

you were scared of the ones who didn’t leave when they saw the scars you carried. 

you were the friend wearing the mask shielding her pain until the pandemic was over, 

until her best friend stopped being 6 feet away. 

Through 

every stumble, 

every stride,

every time your complexity was simplified, 

I REMEMBER.

you were the stylish girl repping her creativity through her fly 5-inch gel x nails, she made typing look easy with.

you were the girl pickin’ out her fro with a plastic pink pick until she felt the essence of the panthers. 

you were the chica bonita with 

the brown lip combo, 

trophy wife highlighter, 

decked out in gold 

from the bamboo hoops 

to nameplates 

that told everyone 

YOU from HARLEM!

I REMEMBER. 

You were the most powerful woman in the room. 

your voice delivered messages once forbidden from exiting the tongues of your ancestors. 

your morals pushed you further than their beg of complicity. 

every step taken was a rhythm of resistance.

you were the brave, 

people wished they could encompass, 

the proud, 

loud-ass,

fake it til you make it,

always cheeky, 

trying to show off the 4k smile your mother worked 9-5 to buy,

young, 

gifted,

Black girl who advocated for others instead of herself.

You see…

Through 

every stumble, 

every stride,

every time authority tried to colonize,

YOU were never occupied, 

even when you took a stand against genocide,

I remember.

Process

This poem is a reflection on my journey of self-discovery, describing the depths of my soul through experiences. Telling a story many have not heard before, and I’ve forgotten to tell. It’s a poem about remembering who I am, even when I forget or feel the societal pressures to conform. The poem moves through memories of self-doubt, insecurities, and my struggle for self-validation, revealing the ways I’ve been shaped by external judgments and internal conflicts.

The act of remembering is central to the poem; it’s a process of reclaiming forgotten truths about myself. Through memories of overcoming hardships, embracing my cultural identity, actively protecting my peace, and standing up for justice, I find strength in my uniqueness throughout the course of the poem. This piece of art honors my complexity as a powerful, creative, and resilient individual who’s learning to be true to myself despite the outside noise bursting through my ears. Ultimately, it’s a celebration of my essence; a story of being unapologetically free and authentic.