Ain't it something how society convinces us all that being Black is some type of crime and we are never given bail.

Often, I find myself feeling prisoner to my own body, but I ‘ve learned to dance in my own skin.

Feeling both Black and proud for the first time.

I have become what they have feared for centuries, which is Black with a sprinkle of joy and pride to go along with this melanin.

I used to wonder if this Black ever wash off of one’s body.

Prayed several times that God made a mistake by giving me this skin tone and begged him to fix it.

Because He is always on time, but He certainly never came when I wanted him to.

Soon, I understood that my bruised knees were not for NOTHING.

God gives his toughest battles to those who are his strongest soldiers.

He taught me to twirl while holding on to my Black Girl Magic.

And ain’t that a talent within itself. 

He taught to hold my head high in the middle of conversations about race.

My history is the very definition of resilience, strength and will to never give up.

Again, I’ve learned to dance in my melanin, stopped praying for a different skin tone and understood that God makes no mistakes. 

And ain't that something to be joyful about.