Roots by Charlotte Watson Sherman
I am sorry you are proud of the man
who raped your great-great-great grandmother and left your hair good.
Please, this is not envy
it is sorrow for the long road we must travel to be sisters.
My lineage can be traced through the roots of my hair to Nairobi.
Do not try to make me ashamed of this fact,
my hair grows in dry tight cottonfields on my head and will not fly in the wind
like to woman I am not.
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