By Micky DeSilva
my mother, beautiful cinnamon skin melanin of a lighter variety, moving across oceans to face new soil. she has fought and clawed and ached through tumultuous transitions: naivety to womanhood, east to west. Risen and settled into her own space. Resilient. This gift of resurrection, it's in my blood.
My father's father. And his father before. brown complexion, saturated with struggle caramel bitter sweet. dark chocolate diluted into unique beautiful testimony, our lineage. diverse textures rich with adversity. thick with the heavy drum beats of ancestral knowing. a story, a song Attached to the generational experience of pigmentation and a sign that reads, No coloreds allowed. That reads, Niggers not welcome. That reads.... Whites only. deep roots. A whisper of shackles. of a delta blues melody in the dark of night of an afro-caribbean carnival filled with the smell of salt air and survival. This gift of resurrection, it's in my blood.
Daughter of an immigrant. Daughter of Salassie I. from womb of woman warrior goddess. seed of creative conduit to the divine. ex-junkie, hope filled poet kissing the earth and ocean waves. enslaved to nothing but the pursuit of freedom and love Resilient. Reborn each time I speak truth. Seeking to sustain the spirit of my predecessors. I believe in magic. In the overcoming of the dark. In taking a stand. In taking a knee. In breaking the chains that bind. You see, this gift of resurrection. It's in my blood.
Micky DeSilva is a multi-ethnic feminist who is based in Santa Barbara, California. She have an MA in Clinical Psychology. Her true loves are poetry, travel, and nature. You can find her on Instagram @la_pluma_negra.