A Vixen’s Prayer

I recently started wearing shorts again.  For years, they represented a war within myself that my compromise meant I was losing. The moment I went into hiding was 4 years ago, while I was a tour guide in college. One day, an older white woman said she didn't want her family to receive a tour from me. My shorts were “too short”.

 My shorts weren’t any shorter than anyone else’s so I don’t know if it was my 5’10 stature, Blackness, or the hips and thighs they come with that set her off but this incident was just as triggering for me as it was for her.  These shorts represented years of compromising because I learned early that if girls like me, smart girls, high achieving girls, wanted to be taken seriously then we should strive to never be sexy or promiscuous; and my body, large, cornbred and oxtail fed, would automatically be deemed both upon first glance meaning I had to work harder to combat my own sexualization.

I learned this lesson over and over again through my youth with every “you’re too smart for that” and “girls like you shouldn’t wear/do/be that.” So really, the shorts that offended this woman took years to select. Even though managing her reaction to me and my shorts wasn't my responsibility, not passing her litmus test, after I had virtually been groomed for her comfort, made me feel embarrassed, vulnerable and like a failure. I wanted, just for a second, to be smaller, whiter, less voluptuous, more palatable, because I wanted to prove I was good and mature, even in this body. Reflecting on this now I realize how my understanding of my development as a woman was rooted solely in my mental and emotional growth. I couldn’t defend myself or my body because I didn’t take pride in it. I didn’t take pride in my body because I didn’t know I could; I was taught to see it as a hindrance to my intelligence and upward mobility. My brain had somehow become separate from my body, and my body separate from my womanhood. 

 From then on, I stopped wearing shorts as a way to protect myself from judgement and to focus solely on my mental and emotional growth. Physical maturity was only important in sex. I didn’t realize I was assimilating to oppression. Nevermind what this taught me about my body, and the racism, anti-Blackness, misogyny and fatphobia that influenced the teachings, this taught me that women could only be valuable either in an intellectual way or a physical way, never both. Which couldn’t be further from my truth.

    As an adult, I reclaim my body and mind to practice unapologetic ownership of all of myself.  In my poem, “A Vixen’s Prayer” I say “my body is mine. God gave it to me.” As a reminder to myself that the body I have, I belong in.  I’m not the sum of my parts, I am whole. It would be beneficial to the systems I’ve listed for me to not truly see or appreciate my body. They would prefer my dichotomous understanding of intelligence and womanhood  to maintain the status quo but freedom for me is embracing “both, and” and rejecting anything that forces me into “either, or”.  Now, I'm putting my pieces back together, wearing shorts, and celebrating my wholeness, and not merely compartmentalized parts.  The remainder of this essay is the full “A Vixen’s Prayer” poem.  May these words be a reckoning for anyone who tries to impose their views onto those who dare divest from the status quo and a revolution for women navigating their nuances with confidence and certainty amidst unnecessary judgement.

“A Vixen’s Prayer”

I hope my thighs are the antagonist,

The main and only character

in your nightmares.

Oh!

I’m overcome by the idea that hell, 

for you, 

Is being forever haunted by my femoral region.

I see it now,

One evening,

You’ll put on your nightdress

It flows to your ankles 

For no other reason but that People like you associate the length with highness,

You lazily pray, 

Like always,

Half-assedly giving my Lord and Saviour your soul to keep,

Never suspecting you’d actually pass away,

Find yourself in the devil’s homestay 

Or that Lucifer would have you answering to me.

People like you

Who abuse the Word 

To make my body your business

As if my ass is somehow a stranger to His vision,

As if Lord don’t love a Vixen,

People like you burn the hottest.

So I know you is thirsty baby.

“Want a drink” I’ll say sweetly and you’ll sigh with relief

Happy that I’m not the villain you made me out to be 

You’ll nod and be reminded of your sin, then,

When I turn around and pull the coolest confection

From my thong.

And this is your reality

Offended

Till eternity’s end.

You think you made me insecure 

Because I’m giddy at your despair?

No.

I don’t care too much about you, anything you do, or your kind.

We both here to live

Yet, you think you have a say over yourself, all your parts and mine

And for that I won’t make time.

My body is mine.

God gave it to me.

“Celebrate and adorn as you see fit, My Child”

He said as he put the finishing touches on the blueprint

My body is my grandma, 

My momma, 

All the greats before them,

My cousins and my aunts

My confidence is too

For it was carefully cultivated by women who taught me that there’d be a lot of yous

A lot of people who’ll never call me beautiful 

A lot of people who want me to be smaller, quiter, and less for their comfort

I thank God that I know the word and don’t have to use you as a translator 

I thank God for the lineage that taught me my worth 

You see, there’s deep ancestral code pulsing through my veins

So how dare you try to punish me,

Profess that I’m less

Or try to change my name 

When I know our Lord told you the same?

It then dawned on me,

You must be in so much pain.

Ashamed,

Drained

From perpetuating a system that polices you

That you willingly subscribe to 

because policing me

Is more important than being free

This is my prayer for you Miss Holier Than Thou,

I pray for your autonomy

I pray for your speedy release from limiting beliefs

I pray you learn that the power my body is blessed with is available to you too

I pray you don’t raise youth to do what you do

I pray one day, you too, chose to be powerful

Pray you realize that your reaction to me, is a reflection of you

But mostly, my wish is this,

Even if to my prayers you never take heed

I pray when you find yourself face to face with a free woman like me

You have enough sanctity or sense 

Not to speak.

Or, that you have on good running shoes

Because if you do, the sacred trio of me, karma and my family tree

Will be running after you.