Personal Narrative-Humorous Wings

We are both birds. You are a dove--white, and I, a crow--black. They associate you with peace and associate me with darkness. Whenever you are seen you are celebrating life, whenever I am seen I am leaping off a tree amidst the night, hovering over the moonlight. Just like you, I am a bird too. Only if they see me the way they see you.
I discovered something I was not supposed to, they are called wings. Apparently, if I spread them wide enough I can fly and soar through the sky. However, I am told that flying is only of a special kind. My kind was not privileged to flight because I was deemed unable to navigate through the different encounters in the sky. It was merely blue and empty I thought, “How hard could it be?” I found the answer to that question when I allowed myself to be free. Free of confinement, free of being told my truth. As I broke the transparent chains, I spread my wings as wide as I could. I flapped them until I could no longer feel the

I feel alone. Just like every other human, I am afraid of the unknown. The uncertainty of finding love due to the lack of love for my nightly skin by the males that share my history. They love the women without skin. Maybe it’s their honey-like hair or soft toned speech. Maybe I remind them too much of the harsh realities. How can I compare to them anyways? I have an attitude, I am aggressive, my hair does not even pass my ears. Everything that is associated with me is rough. I am prone to internalize this pain, feel ashamed about my blackness, be driven into isolation and give up. I am human too, I also should be loved. I am unapologetically black and that too will be loved. My hair is short, curls at the sprinkle of water, that too will be loved. I speak with passion, pain, resilience, that too will be loved. My skin, it glows like the reflection of the moon along the water in the night, that too will be loved. I am the blackbird that wants to fly because I also have wings, that too will be