A quarterly international literary journal

  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Twitter

© 2022 The Plentitudes.
All rights reserved.

The Plentitudes is a quarterly international literary journal founded in New York City.

Each issue showcases a selection of captivating stories, essays, and poetry from diverse voices. 

Black Woman


By LaRita Dixon


/ Poetry /

I remember the day I discovered that I was a black woman

I had looked into mirrors all my life

And I had seen my skin

But I didn’t know that it came with such infamy

What a name; to be “black” in any society


To hear the brutes cry “liberty and justice for all”

But knowing that “all” didn’t mean you


To know you were a luxury

A delicacy

Something to be worshipped

But only behind closed doors

To be ridiculed

And yet in the light of day

They only ask for more


I remember the day I discovered that I was a black woman

I wasn’t even a woman yet

Just a girl in a restless world

On a morning I won’t forget


The kings came bounding into the room

Deciding whom they would choose

Calling the fair hair’s and alabaster skin’s their queens

They chose everyone but me


I was too much of something

Too little of something else

It seemed I had forgotten

To despise certain things about myself


But despite the day that I remember

A moment I will never forget

There’s not a day in my history

That this skin is something I regret


Black and bold

In perfect harmony


I remember the day I discovered that I was a black woman

And on that day I could’ve chosen to be done

But with this rich and glorious skin of mine

It would seem that I have won

41 views