When God was planning my arrival, he could have made me anything. I could have been born in Portugal, Indonesia, Romania, Japan, Brazil, et al, but he chose me to be born in Augusta Georgia, at precisely 10:20 a.m. on July 8th, 19___. Ha. My business, but the point is…not once in my life have I ever looked in the mirror and wished to be someone else. I love my skin, my eyes, my nose, my hair and most importantly; I feel blessed being a Black woman. I feel like I hit 777 in the lottery. The dice keeps rolling 7’s. I keep pulling Aces from the deck. I am a symbol of beauty that can’t be duplicated. I’m in a royal class. Their is joy in my spirit for I know that I was born of love…and I’ve always felt special.
It is not what I am that matters, but what it means to be that. Being a Black woman means that we are born to be first. Africa birthed the first queens. That regality is deep within me. My spirit soars and I don’t need a throne. Folks see me and automatically are motivated to bestow respect fit for one who was born to be exalted.
I AM A BLACK WOMAN. Proud and free.
Thank you, Lord.
I love who I am and every single day…I fly with my feet firm on the ground, but soar each time I spread my wings like an eagle and glide with a firm wind above the clouds.
Ahhhhhhhh……….Yeah! I always feel like I am the Greatest even when the world tries to tell me I’m not.