Rebecca Olayinka

Strong Black Woman

My skin is black,

My body is female

I am told I am pretty but more often I am told; “You are strong”

In a world filled with misogyny and racism that I face, 

How does that bring birth to a strong black woman in my place?

They say “support is not for you”

You are not seen as vulnerable you are not seen as weak. 

Yet, the scars on my left arm would repute that fact.

They tell a story that which is both sad and gory.   

A story no one wants to be told. 

I’m not ashamed, I lived it,

I was broken, now that part of me is lifted. 

I know underneath the mangled skin and the grief that was been buried deep within, 

Another me emerged,

I call her by her name, I call her… Brave. 

She’s forever tattooed on my left hand, to show the world how I am now made.  

Yet when my strength falters, like it often does these days,

My scars awake from their sleepy slumber,

They call me to sing, they tempt me to dance, 

To join them once again in the misery of their pain

I do not succumb, as I know how it will end… it will all be in vain. 

I make a daily resolve,

I cannot choose that path again, 

I will not let that be my fate.  

I question myself, maybe I am really strong?

To keep on going when you want to give in, 

To persist, to endure as you know that there is a shining light within. 

Yet I know being strong does not get you much support,

The people remind me 

“You’re a strong black woman that is what you have become 

What good is support to you, if you were born strong?”

As you know how to make it, you know you can take it. 

I reply, 

“Yet sometimes I need support and I know that wanting it doesn’t make me wrong. 

It makes me human and that is what really enables me to be STRONG.”

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Written by Rebecca Olayinka

Rebecca is from London and has lived in Bristol for 14 years. Rebecca attended UWE and now works as Senior Practitioner (Social Worker) in Bristol. Rebecca loves poetry and is currently working on her first manuscript.