This is a poem I wrote in response to “Girl” by Jamaica Kincaid.
Oh my darling mother please do not worry, for you have taught me so much about what it means to be a woman.
But the world is changing and out of the black and white rises a kaleidoscope of colour.
And as I spread my wings and wander in that foreign sunshine; I will wear your old sun hat with pride.
As I cook the pumpkin fritters and eat the whole god damn plate, I will think of you and smile.
It is true I shall not pick peoples flowers nor thrown stones at blackbirds. How cruel that would be.
I will water other peoples gardens and watch their flowers bloom and the birds soar high and free.
The fresh fruits on the streets are the sweetest around and each one is sold by a stranger with a story.
As I listen to their stories, I will let the juices of that fruit drip right down my chin, gloriously happy.
I shall bleed under the moonlight and take my rest when needed so I may smile at every stranger and welcome the world into my heart.
And as I wear my white cotton dresses and wage a war against injustice, I will think of you and every woman who came before me.
Oh darling mother if I ever wash his sheets, it will be only after he has wept tears at my art.
When the time comes I shall remind your grandchild not to be such a slut. Oh how we will roar with laughter.
I will pass a piece of you to the next generation and through those words you shall live on.
I’ll miss you when I am many miles from home; yet in the cawing of the birds I hear your sweet wisdom.
I shall dance with that broom in my hand and sing Benna with the devil and even he shall be impressed with the way I orchestrate my success.
Oh my darling Mother don’t you worry, I will be the kind of woman the world squeezes the bread for.