For my hair being

Tightly coiled and vague

Like the cotton my ancestors picked,

I will not apologize.

For my hair being Amazon dense

So much so that life herself could get lost in its

Snaky, confusing locs,

I will not apologize.

For my hair not lying flat when doused with water,

Or cowering in blustery winds,

But standing tall as the great oak after the hurricane,

I will not apologize.

For my hair being as fragile as the petal of a wildflower,

Sprouting up on a prairie in the calming

Spring sun,

I will not apologize.

For my hair being as natural as

A baby, fresh out of the life-giving fluid of his mother,

I most certainly will not apologize.