There’s enough stories for our daughters
Even if they fail to read the lines on our weather beaten faces
Doing the ancient dance of pots plates and fire
To prepare a plate for a man who has just left his lovers arms
There’s enough letters for Ada
To read stories of the voices silenced
Voices like hers because a woman has no place in the board room
Even if no body tells her, the landlord will
When she goes to pay for an apartment and they tell her
There is no room for single ladies
What we must do is live now, fight now before we die now
One colored braid at a time
One kept maiden name at a time
One loud voice at a time
Waist beads
Leg chains
Nose ring
Endless parties
MSc
PhD
Paid child care
Take outs
For all the sisters who keep the war front occupied, this is for you
For all the miles you’ve walked so others can fly, this is for you
They lied when they told you to sneer at your fellow girls
children of good homes do not wear short skirts
These mocking stares you’ve planted are waiting for you in front
In the husband who you wear your iro and buba for
When he flaunts Obiageli with her mini skirt in the streets of Paris
–
Chukulee 