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Poem: Beauty Cannot Kill It

Dearest Duchess.
I hope you see It.
I hope you see It clearly now.
That thing.
That thing that beauty cannot kill.
You assumed
as many of us have
that once they encountered
your poise
and Grace
that you would no longer
have to face 
Not there.
Not in a royal place.
Not with the entire world in your face
Not with the paparazzi
As they began talking
you recognized It.
That thing. 
That thing you were sure you left
when saying farewell to these shores
for a new life.
Yes, you were a Black Woman 
and you were also his wife, right?
It was unamused, completely unbothered.
You were lulled into a false sense of security by
the existence of the resistance to It by your father 
at a time when interracial relationships
were much harder.
Not to mention how many times you faced
It in Hollywood. 
You made it in Hollywood. 
You left It in Hollywood.
You thought.
Now your soul feels caught
Between the hell you see and the hell you feel.
You no longer can differentiate between
what is the hate they gave over the hate that’s real.
That real loathing of yourself
for thinking that It would ever relinquish It’s hold
to you and your Black Beauty.
No need to hold on to the shame
we intimately understand your pain.
For many of us know It when we feel It
and we call It by Its name…
White supremacy is a beast.
And beauty
kill It.

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