We Are The Witches - Poetry Visual
- Maureen Tchatchoua
- Dec 7, 2021
- 2 min read
Updated: Dec 10, 2021
For my Digital Art Final Portfolio Project, I decided to create visuals for a poem I recently wrote about the abused magic of Black Women. This is a universal issue that I have -and still am- configuring my emotions about and I, essentially, left it all in the poetry:
What more do they want?
Our smile
Our peace
Our safety
Our womb
Our efforts
Our strength
Our femininity
Our creativity
Our sexuality
Our divinity
Our happiness
What more do they want?
The way we uplift others while receiving nothing in return
The way we are so quick to martyrdom
To “Ride or Die” for the cause
For the people
For our people
For All people
For our men
For our children
For ourselves
How is it possible to continuously conjure up enough “Black Girl Magic” to save the world with no resources
Where does this magic come from?
The sun? The stars? The moon?
From remarks that express that the majority of us are loud, ghetto, angry
From the lynchings, rapes, beatings from both men of and of no color?
From the culture that teaches little Black girls that although they have more to offer, more knowledge, more grit, more integrity, more dignity
Their worth will still only be measured by the Black man they choose to ride & often times than not Die for
Ride or Die.
Most do the latter
Death seems to meet Young Black Women
-Educated or not, poised or not, loud or not, angry or not, feminine or not, submissive or not
Where-ever the Black Girl’s Magic flows,
Involuntarily, Death seems to follow
With no regard, no protection, no revolt, no war, only normalization
So I ask, & I cry:
‘Shouldn’t magic be coveted?!?’
If Black Girls produce so much, shouldn’t the producers reap the benefits of the culture we create?
The culture everyone but us benefit from?
A culture you can relate to and mock at the same time?
We are the witches that have been doomed to burn at the stake for simple speculation of greatness
Simple speculation of happiness
Simple speculation of power
Simple speculation of leading a normal life
And we burn, and burn, and burn
The fire being constantly revitalized by those determined to steal
To steal out smile
Our peace
Our safety
Our womb
Our efforts
Our strength
Our femininity
Our creativity
Our sexuality
Our divinity
Our happiness
For when magic goes unprotected, it is the most vulnerable element in this universe
So I continue to ask:
What more do they want?
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