BR Presents: No Boundaries
Don’t let me put words in your mouth
Rather allow me to fix my language around your needs. Let me bend to you, sis,
Since the world is craggy and aims to swallow you, whole.
Since the day is already trying to brow beat the vigor off
You say the word and I will make it amplified
We’ll scream our demands at the institutions that say we ain’t here.
Hear this. Every woman near is a monument to persistence.
We could be anger.
We could be fire breathing. We swallow so much,
Balance cosmos on the tips of bitten tongues, we birth and nurse,
Carry and lose, bruise and resist, we pick our battles, prick only on their low expectations.
Women, make yourself a weapon, like a book or a screen or a song
Find yourself an instrument that makes the world bend to you,
Use it. Unabashedly. On workdays and holidays and in intimate space.
Know there is never a time your body isn’t yours.
Never a moment you have to watch your mouth to keep them pacified.
Never a light within you should have to quench.
Put your kisses where you wish, girl.
Pack your punches with unrelenting love.
Don’t let them shake the faith off. Don’t let them
Speak anything against your power. Your trials. Your mama —
Survived ardently and by tooth skin and crook of neck. Your sisters
Wake early, ride transit, bow heads, clean toilets, sacrifice hand and foot.
Every woman. Here. Is here. and that is a testament to how many lives
You have already lived How many barriers you have destroyed?
In Hosiery or heels. In power suits. In your fine linen or well-worn denim.
In last night’s bruises, or this morning’s fresh hope. I see you. Pulverizing ceilings. Catalyzing safe space as an act of defiance. This sisterhood belongs to the poor.
The striving, the wealthy, the shapely, the foul-mouthed, the devout, the agnostic, the survivors, the innocent, the truth speakers, Women who push seeds into earth, Women who push bills into law, Women who Imagine the future and code it or speak in tongues. Women who excise doubt and fill the void with surety.
The triple A. The double D. Let there be no performance of this joy. Let it be real and binding. Ever-present.
May it fall on your daughters like a torrent. May it wrap your frailties in newfound strength. May it follow you like a melody you cannot get out of your head. Like a chant you cannot unsay. Like a call to action you cannot unhear. Women.
Tell me your stories and I will hold them holy. As they are.
As you must be. You, in constellation with all the girls, and all the elders, all the mothers and every person who ever knew this body of secrets and alliances. You deserve a litany in your first language. You have earned every honor. Every bright light and perked ear.
Don’t let me put words in your mouth. Give me a mic and I will turn it on you. Give me a pen and watch me listen. Lend me your language and I will amplify it from every stage.
In proud honor of Black History Month, we celebrate people, style and community through the lens of black artists and visionaries. Read our features on Melodie McDaniel and Koto Bolofo, then explore our February campaign, Bold Vision.
Don’t let me put words in your mouth
Rather allow me to fix my language around your needs. Let me bend to you, sis,
Since the world is craggy and aims to swallow you, whole.
Since the day is already trying to brow beat the vigor off
You say the word and I will make it amplified
We’ll scream our demands at the institutions that say we ain’t here.
Hear this. Every woman near is a monument to persistence.
We could be anger.
We could be fire breathing. We swallow so much,
Balance cosmos on the tips of bitten tongues, we birth and nurse,
Carry and lose, bruise and resist, we pick our battles, prick only on their low expectations.
Women, make yourself a weapon, like a book or a screen or a song
Find yourself an instrument that makes the world bend to you,
Use it. Unabashedly. On workdays and holidays and in intimate space.
Know there is never a time your body isn’t yours.
Never a moment you have to watch your mouth to keep them pacified.
Never a light within you should have to quench.
Put your kisses where you wish, girl.
Pack your punches with unrelenting love.
Don’t let them shake the faith off. Don’t let them
Speak anything against your power. Your trials. Your mama —
Survived ardently and by tooth skin and crook of neck. Your sisters
Wake early, ride transit, bow heads, clean toilets, sacrifice hand and foot.
Every woman. Here. Is here. and that is a testament to how many lives
You have already lived How many barriers you have destroyed?
In Hosiery or heels. In power suits. In your fine linen or well-worn denim.
In last night’s bruises, or this morning’s fresh hope. I see you. Pulverizing ceilings. Catalyzing safe space as an act of defiance. This sisterhood belongs to the poor.
The striving, the wealthy, the shapely, the foul-mouthed, the devout, the agnostic, the survivors, the innocent, the truth speakers, Women who push seeds into earth, Women who push bills into law, Women who Imagine the future and code it or speak in tongues. Women who excise doubt and fill the void with surety.
The triple A. The double D. Let there be no performance of this joy. Let it be real and binding. Ever-present.
May it fall on your daughters like a torrent. May it wrap your frailties in newfound strength. May it follow you like a melody you cannot get out of your head. Like a chant you cannot unsay. Like a call to action you cannot unhear. Women.
Tell me your stories and I will hold them holy. As they are.
As you must be. You, in constellation with all the girls, and all the elders, all the mothers and every person who ever knew this body of secrets and alliances. You deserve a litany in your first language. You have earned every honor. Every bright light and perked ear.
Don’t let me put words in your mouth. Give me a mic and I will turn it on you. Give me a pen and watch me listen. Lend me your language and I will amplify it from every stage.
