Desiree Pondt - Black Power with My Dress On. lyrics

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Desiree Pondt - Black Power with My Dress On. lyrics

The Harlem Renaissance gave was a cultural explosion. It was the time of black voices to be heard and also a force to be reckon with, voices that ranged from authors, poets, and musicians. This cultural explosion, opened the flood gates to more black artists and hence forth this began the “Black Arts” era. Black arts was formed during the time of the black power movement, a movement where blacks were accepting their color and was not afraid to express self-admiration. One great thing that you do notice is the numbers of female authors were starting to increase with focusing on s**ism, racism, black love, d**, and other issues. Shedding light on the bold but unheard voice, “the black woman”. Authors such as Nikki Giovanni, Sonia Sanchez, Carolyn Rodgers and many more gave people of other races and gender a look into something they never really took keen to notice. (1966)Born to be Black- Homecoming by Sonia Sanchez i have been a way so long once after college i returned tourist style to watch all the n******gs k**ing themselves with 3 for ones with needles that cd not support their stutters. now woman i have returned leaving behind me all those hide and seek faces peeling with freudian dreams. this is for real. black n******gs my beauty. baby. i have learned it ain't like they say in the newspapers. Nikki-Rosa BY NIKKI GIOVANNI childhood remembrances are always a drag if you're Black you always remember things like living in Woodlawn with no inside toilet and if you become famous or something they never talk about how happy you were to have your mother all to yourself and how good the water felt when you got your bath from one of those big tubs that folk in chicago barbecue in and somehow when you talk about home it never gets across how much you understood their feelings as the whole family attended meetings about Hollydale and even though you remember your biographers never understand your father's pain as he sells his stock and another dream goes And though you're poor it isn't poverty that concerns you and though they fought a lot it isn't your father's drinking that makes any difference but only that everybody is together and you and your sister have happy birthdays and very good Christmases and I really hope no white person ever has cause to write about me because they never understand Black love is Black wealth and they'll probably talk about my hard childhood and never understand that all the while I was quite happy (1967) Black love for the Black WOMAN. For Sistuhs Wearin' STraight Hair by CAROLYN M. RODGERS me? i never could keep my edges and kitchen straighht even after supercool/straighterPerm had burned whiteness onto my scalp my edges and kitchen didnt ever get the message that they was not supposed to go back home. oh yeah. edges and kitchens will tell that they know where they nat'chal home is at! Poem for Some Black Women by CAROLYN M. RODGERS i am lonely. all the people i know i know too well there was comfort in that at first but now we know each other miseries too well. we are lonely women, who spend time waiting for occasional flings we live with fear. we are lonely. we are talented, dedicated, well read BLACK, COMMITED, we are lonely. (1968) Realization 125th Street and Abomey by AUDRE LORDE “Head bent, walking through snow I see you Seboulisa printed inside the back of my head like marks of the newly wrapped akai that kept my sleep fruitful in Dahomey and I poured on the red earth in your honor those ancient parts of me most precious and least needed my well-guarded past the energy-eating secrets I surrender to you as libation mother, illuminate my offering of old victories over men over women over my selves who has never before dared to whistle into the night take my fear of being alone like my warrior sisters who rode in defense of your queendom disguised and apart give me the woman strenght of tongue in this cold season. blk/rhetoric by SONIA SANCHEZ who's gonna make all that beautiful blk / rhetoric mean something. like i mean who's gonna take the words blk/ is / beautiful and make more of it than blk/ capitalism. u dig? i mean like who's gonna take all the young/ long/ haired natural/ brothers and sisters and let them grow till all that is impt is them selves moving in straight/ revolutionary/ lines toward the enemy (and we know who that is) like. man. who's gonna give our young blk/ people new heroes (instead of catch/ phrases) (instead of cad/ ill/ acs) (instead of pimps) (instead of wite who*es) (instead of d**) (instead of new daces) (instead of chit/ter/lings) (instead of of a 35c bottle of ripple) (instead of quick/ f**s in the hall/ way of wite/ america's mind) like. this. is an S O S me. calling........ calling......... some/one, pleasereplysoon BEAUTIFUL BLACK MEN BY NIKKI GIOVANNI i wanta say just gotta say something bout those beautiful beautiful beautiful outasight black men with they afros walking down the street is the same ol danger but a brand new pleasure sitting on stoops, in bars, going to offices running numbers, watching for their who*es preaching in churches, driving their hogs walking their dogs, winking at me in their fire red, lime green, burnt orange royal blue tight tight pants that hug what i like to hug jerry butler, wilson pickett, the impressions temptations, mighty mighty sly don't have to do anything but walk on stage and i scream and stamp and shout see new breed men in breed alls dashiki suits with shirts that match the lining that compliments the ties that smile at the sandals where dirty toes peek at me and i scream and stamp and shout for more beautiful beautiful beautiful black men with outasight afros (1969) I AM WOMAN The Last M.F. by CAROLYN M. RODGERS they say, that i should not use the word muthaf**a anymo in my poetry or in any speech i give. they say, that i must and can only say it to myself as the new Black womanhood suggests a softer self a more reserved speaking self. they say, that respect is hard won by a woman who throws a word like muthaf**a around and so they say because we love you throw that word away, Black Woman... i say, that i only call muthaf**as, muthaf**as so no one should be insulted. only pigs and hunks and negroes who try to divide and destroy our moves towards liberation. i say, that i am soft, and you can subpoena my man, put him on trial, and he will testify that i am soft in the right places at the right times and often we are so reserved, i have nothing to say but they say that this new day creates a new dawn woman, one who will listen to Black Men and so i say this is the last poem i will write calling all manners of wites, card-carrying muthaf**as and all manner of Blacks (negroes too) sweeet muthaf**as, crazy muthaf**as, lowdown muthaf**as cool muthaf**as, mad and revolutionary muthaf**as. But anyhowyou all know just like i do (whether i say it or not), thers plentty of MEAN muthaf**as out here trying to do the struggle in and we all know that none of us can relax until the last m.f's been done in.