"What is it about Black? Like the rose that grew from the concrete, the Black woman is the rainbow that came from darkness, using harrowing tribulations as the prism through which she shined her enduring, effulgent, and enamoring light of excellent exception. Whatever she did was excluded from demotic generalizations; it was always tinged in amazing, deeply hued in raw femininity. Every facet of her being was a different color. From the scarlet passion that stained men like blood, to the fiery orange drive that was at the heart of her steam engine ambition. Good men made her as yellow as the bricked-road she believed she had to travel to find one, but she always presented herself as a golden opportunity. This woman's womb cradled civilization long before it could grow to maul her. She was once gravid with the original leaders of the world; now a whore is what they call her. She has been devalued, her sparkling silver soul now a beaten-down bronze. But she shines nevertheless. So many shades of skin...she comes in all earth tones, from a magnificent mahogany to an exquisite ecru. Her hair varies from coarse locks of ebony that represent the strong bonds of her people, to dyed, silky strands of excelled adaptation, to natural curls of inherent complexity, to afros of concerted solidarity, to close cuts of equality. Oh how she represents for her people. When her men were sold away, she turned the pale blues of depression into the royal blue of heritage through enduring. When her men were hung, she turned the sanguine reds of bloodshed into vibrant pinks of romance through carrying the flame until death. When her men were disenfranchised, she turned the grey area of women's participation into an area of great Black pride, standing side-by-side with her brothers in the fight. Even when her own brothers leave her black and blue, emotionally and physically, she turns bruises into lessons and heartbreaks into stepping stones, all while her sweet-as-sugar white smile gleams through it all. Not even the welcomed challenge of motherhood could dim her light, as her glow illuminates children, turning boys into shining examples of Black men and girls into scintillating model Black women, even if she has to do it on her own or through a time of crisis. No amount of darkness has kept her down. She has been green with envy before, but can one blame her? She's been forced to work in fields of green, forced to eat what greens she can prepare, and denied the right to be fairly employed to work for greenbacks. Now women turn shades of jade when they see the Black woman's body, a testament to her strength. Tests of time have eroded her body into a thing of sheer beauty, bending and curving in ways her will never could. For all the grace she's displayed in the face of disrespect and dehumanization, her body has become the manifestation. She IS royalty. She is a queen by default, as she was once the only woman that existed. Purple runs through her veins, mixing with the blue heritage to form an indigo mystique that shades everything about her. It is a wonder how she exists in such a way, showing her resplendent colors like a vivacious violet on a Sunday afternoon. A truly timeless art form, her colors never fade. An endless rainbow of God's divine light lies within her, and only a Black woman could wrest a spectrum of light from the dark. She is....no, YOU ARE a Colored Woman. A kaleidoscopic soul featuring visions of the cosmos, flashes of divinity, and glimmers of perfection."
Colored Woman, this one's for you.
-A. Lewis
