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A Letter to my Unborn Child

Nacole Abram’s poem, “A Letter to my Unborn Child.”

Run. Run. Run

like your life depends on it,

and don’t stop for the man Himself.

And when you are trying your hardest, baby

you’re gonna need to try harder. And harder. And harder

because twice as hard only gets you half as far.

And always make your voice smooth.

Keep it soft like snowflakes

and warm. And warm. And warm

like a spring afternoon.

Keep your posture straight,

your music down,

and your movements slow. Slow. Slow

and never mistakenly aggressive.

Expect for them to hate your thick lips,

your big breasts, your round ass, your pigmented skin and your curly hair. But don’t be confused when they strive. Strive. Strive

to have all the same.

And remember to never make mistakes.

And to never get angry… You are not allowed to be angry.

And to never realize that this country was not made for you.

Never be weak. Weak. Weak,

but never let them think you can over power them

even if you can.

And baby, don’t be fooled when they say we are equal

or that our lives matter

or that one day racism will be no more

because even if they believe it,

it does us no good until they show it.

And know. Know. Know

that mama wants to save you from all this shit

but I’m doing the best I can.

And try not to hate me. And try not to hate you. And try not to hate them.

And when you are trying your hardest, baby

you’re gonna need to try harder. And harder. And harder

because your life depends on it.


This article was written by Nacole Abram. Please send an email to managing@oncenturyavenue.com to get in touch.
Illustration Credit: Arshaun Darabnia

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