Lately I’ve been thinking
I can’t save you with my super powers
I am only human so don’t call me superwoman
Don’t call me superwoman
Not because I don’t balance the world on my two shoulders
Not strong enough in the eyes of men to make political decisions
But strong enough to carry the political fallout of consequences on my back
As they attack me with ads that constantly tell me that I am not good enough
Not good enough physically, as if I don’t have enough strength to qualify
Even though last time I checked I never seen a man conceive, carry and birth life, with no hands
Hands Up because we too busy using them to hold up picket signs
Screaming don’t shoot our babies in cold blood
No
Don’t call me superwoman
Because I don’t like the pressure that comes with the cape
It wraps around my neck a bit too tightly
And I am afraid
Afraid that every time I put it on it might be my last time
As I cry myself in the corners of closets just for a moment to be out of this world
Away from the pressures of being super and just for a moment BE a woman,
A living breathing human being who despite what Instagram portrays sometimes can’t handle it all
Please
Don’t call me superwoman
Because that word alone will be the justification
To further persuade some that I am not in need of help
That I am miss INDEPENDENT
And I can do bad all by myself
Or I can do good
But whatever I can do, that I can do it alone
As if I am not a living creature in need of stepping on the scales in hopes that for me, one day they will balance out
One day before I burn out
From churning out pieces of me constantly
Never saying No because I couldn’t face the consequences of potential disappointment
My herstory has been clear that I come from a line of strong black women
All I can say is that I, I don’t want to suffer from their syndrome
Crash and burn until there is nothing left
But I cannot imagine that is what they would have wanted for me
And I cannot hold my breath while I wait for men to march for me like I march for them
Give up their careers for me so I can pursue my dreams and still have hopes of a family before 40 without freezing my eggs out of worry,
Hold my breath that they will support me instead of sending me to Jesus to just pray on it, tell me I will make it but won’t dare step forward to help me unload my cross for 2 seconds while I catch myself before I slip
Please
Do not Call me Superwoman
Because it comes with just too much pressure
And I am already on the brink of exploding
Like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt
Ready to overflow generations of anguish and tears silently carried in
The crevices of my public bones,
My lower back
Or my hands that are cracked from
Being overworked and not held enough
I have come to the conclusion that I have had enough
That the days of being put on a pedestal for being able to do it all and keep it together are not glorious anymore
And for the sake of self care and self love I have chosen to come down
Before I burn after the final crash,
Before there is nothing left but ash
Before there is nothing left then an early grave stone that reads
Overly Devoted Wife
Mother
And Superwoman
GUERRILLA OF THE WORD 