By Aura Shakhar

I bet you love being called ghetto

I bet you love the attention…the appropriation

I bet you love seeing Black girls call each other a b*tch a** h*e

I bet you love the confrontation

Everything is ghetto until it’s not

Pills, lean, henny, crack and pot

When in the hands of a white it’s straight

In the hands of a Black it ain’t

Oh don’t get me started on the hair

Stop trying to make the braids work the look is not there

It’s not fair

We work so hard to keep a float

While you give out white people smiles with your new found boxer braids excited to gloat

How does it feel to be the cause of the Black women’s screams ?

How does it feel to have time to breath ?

How does it feel to not worry ?

How does it feel to not live your life in a hurry ?

Do you like it ? Can you fight it ?

The urge I mean

The urge to take what’s not yours

The urge to be a feen