Since I was young, I knew I had a gift for writing. I was the kind of kid who would write short stories in my journals, and was always grabbing a new book from the library or bookstore. 

My mom pushed me to always use correct grammar and learn new words, and my dad was always shoveling new books onto my bookshelf. Reading and writing were instilled in me from a young age, and I have loved them since forever. 

In college, it has been hard for me to find time for the things I love and the things I am passionate about. When I saw that I could take a creative writing class for my art general education course, I was elated. 

I am not fond of drawing or painting, and I knew I would not enjoy any class like that. But I immediately knew I would love a class that would allow me to express myself through writing. 

In this class, I wanted to express myself to the fullest. I wrote a lot about being a Black woman because being a Black woman inspires me everyday. Black women inspire me everyday and I wanted to convey that. 

“Angry Black Woman”

Angry Black Woman.
That is what you call me.
I am an angry Black woman.
And contrary to popular belief, I am okay with being such.
In a country like this, why would I be happy?
When my brothers and sisters are dying on the street,
And you stand by, unaffected.
When little black girls who look just like me are told that their skin is not pretty,
You stand by, unaffected.
When little black boys learn to fear those who “protect and serve,”
And you stand by, unaffected.
When my people are still feeling the affects of slavery,
And you stand by. Unaffected.
I have no desire to pretend to be a happy,
And this country has never given me a reason to be.
And so, I am content being the angry Black woman you call me.