A Letter to my Unborn Child

Nacole Abram's poem, "A Letter to my Unborn Child."

Run. Run. Run


like your life depends on it,


and don't stop for the man Himself.


And when you are trying your hardest, baby


you're gonna need to try harder. And harder. And harder


because twice as hard only gets you half as far.


And always make your voice smooth.


Keep it soft like snowflakes


and warm. And warm. And warm


like a spring afternoon.


Keep your posture straight,


your music down,


and your movements slow. Slow. Slow


and never mistakenly aggressive.


Expect for them to hate your thick lips,


your big breasts, your round ass, your pigmented skin and your curly hair. But don't be confused when they strive. Strive. Strive


to have all the same.


And remember to never make mistakes.


And to never get angry... You are not allowed to be angry.


And to never realize that this country was not made for you.


Never be weak. Weak. Weak,


but never let them think you can over power them


even if you can.


And baby, don't be fooled when they say we are equal


or that our lives matter


or that one day racism will be no more


because even if they believe it,


it does us no good until they show it.


And know. Know. Know


that mama wants to save you from all this shit


but I'm doing the best I can.


And try not to hate me. And try not to hate you. And try not to hate them.


And when you are trying your hardest, baby


you're gonna need to try harder. And harder. And harder


because your life depends on it.


This article was written by Nacole Abram. Please send an email to managing@oncenturyavenue.com to get in touch. Illustration Credit: Arshaun Darabnia