by Marlon Bute

She is no good.

She loves power.

She is ugly.

Her hair is nappy.

She is a boy.

She lacks grace.

They say, she is devoid of taste.

They say the worst things. They say she is no Christian. A traitor. Not to be trusted.

And, like a pack of hungry wolves, they growl; baring teeth, stained, from rotten meat.

With their nostrils flaring, their hearts thumping, their eye bulging, and finding nothing to devour;

They turn on each other, unable to contemplate, that though they would love to shred her to bits and pieces so that she is not known, erased even; they can’t. So, they snarl, drool, salivate, self-hate; she is beyond their reach.

She is refreshing, nourishing; she is quenching, soothing, like the morning dew, on the leaves, the grass, the plants; they sip of her goodness.

She is a preacher, a teacher, an orator, a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a mentor, a leader.

She is beautiful, with full lips, dark skin, kinky hair, strong hips.

She is talented, brilliant, and inquisitive.

She is fearless.

She is Anesia. She is Vynnette. She is Girlyn. She is Rene. She is Judith. She is Luzette. She is Margaret. She is Michele. She is Nelcia.

She is Yvonne. She is Mamie Joshua. They are our women in politics, government, past and present, who give of self, in service. We must love, respect, cherish, encourage, congratulate, imitate, and embrace.

And, if we must criticize; question, doubt, second guess; we should so do, tastefully; positively, clearly, sensibly, rationally, justifiably.

Not to hate; mock, ridicule, tarnish, or impoverish of character; reputation, good spiritedness, fruitfulness.

For each one, needs one; to teach one, to support one, to serve one, to embrace one, to grow one, to enrich this blessed nation.

She is five. She is ten. She is fifteen. She is growing. She is watching. She is learning. She is hoping.

She is our child; to encourage, to protect, to teach, to nurture; to be a sister, a mother, a teacher, a mentor, a leader.

She is.