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DEAR FLOTUS

Dear FLOTUS Poem formally known as "Dear First Lady" READ TEXT BELOW FLOTUS (Michelle Obama Poem) • Dear First Lady I watched as my 4-year old cousin Sat in the mirror, Placed my grandmother’s pearls around her neck and said, “Jas, do I look like Michelle Obama?” This little girl who does not know how to say Rice Crispy Or Macaroni and Cheese Properly said your name Like it belonged on her long list of heroes In-between Snow White and Santa Claus. • My little cousin is not yet old enough to know Jim Crow. She has not lived long enough to interpret the Constitution Or fight for human rights, She does not know your view on the health care reform, Your Princeton education Nor can she point to Chicago on a map. But she knows Black Barbie dolls and nap time. • How to identify your face in a land-field of Misrepresented women Who share our skin color like a sequenced revolution. She knows your smile Michelle, She knows the day her mother jumped up and down crying, November 4th black and red dresses, How to say African American Better than her own first name. You proved that her identity belongs Somewhere in this American dream. • She knows that if she can find your face In the jumbled channels on television It’s a possibility she can stay up past her bedtime You are everything her mother never got the chance to be, Cover Girl’s Beauty of the Week, A love story sprinkled in an inaugural speech, And a woman she can mistake for her mommy. • Do you know what that means? She traded in her Dora the Explorer costume For a brooch of the American Flag And a tee shirt with your husband’s face on it. • And for the first time I could identify the revolution That would actually change the world It’s not in how many Barack and Martin comparisons we can make, But the idea of little boys jumping off their bunk beds with an American flag tied around their necks actually believing that they can fly. • It’s in little girls with dreams and their grandmother’s pearls My little cousin doesn’t know about the war in Iraq She just wonders if Sasha and Malia like to hula-hoop And if you force them to eat their Flintstone Vitamins too. • So I guess this poem is a thank you Thank you for being a brown girl’s dream come true, Something tangible to look up to. Because I know that our skin color exists on timelines Of women who had craters engraved in their backs. Stretch marks similar to maps of underground railroads. Grandmothers who couldn’t afford all the ingredients to the recipe of the American pie. Women who laid down their lives, Strutted with chips and cracks in their spines, • Dying to inject more estrogen in “Man’s kind” Creating tradition under the idea That if I can’t afford my daughter the world, A college education, or at-least a decent meal tonight, When’s she old enough to measure 40 acres and a crashing dream I’ll wrap my grandmother’s pearls around her neck Like a gravity stricken halo And whisper in her ear “Baby, if I Can’t, You Will……She Did.” Poem Written / Published by Jasmine Mans / @PoetJasmineMans Video : Redens D. , Joe Moore, Double M Productions Sound : Double M Productions Song instrumental: "When You Believe"