Perception of My Reflection

My reflection has become an aesthetic.

 In fact, it is my reflection that consumer consumes to become. 

To become it is to understand where I'm from that leaves me feeling numb. Numb because my reflection is your perception consumed by the world's deception. Deception blinded by your ancestor's misconceptions. 

The type of misconception that can only be healed with a mother's affection. 

The perception that needs correction is not my reflection; it is perfection. 

Perfection feels like rejection when you've lived your life in protection from your reflection; not because you hate who you are but because the world does. 

"Who cares what the world thinks," they say 

I do when it controls my pay that's snatched away if ever threatened. 

Threatened by my reflection the same reflection that has become an aesthetic

The aesthetic filled in a world of cosmetics,  it is my reflection that consumer consumes to become.

How can you become when you don't understand where I'm from.

Freedom from the oppressor? How does one measure? if you haven't felt the pressure 

This isn't dress up; you don't get to be aesthetic in my world. 

Complexion has become earned, learned, or preferred to the world complexion is one-third, blurred, absurd, and a word.

To me, complexion is a struggle something I've had to juggle. 

My reflection is an aesthetic that doesn't seem to fit most molds because it's bold. 

So bold that most fold at my words except I didn't speak I just existed. 

The words scream so loudly except no one can hear instead they fear while they cheer because my reflection has become an aesthetic.

Perception has to be more than what meets the eye but it is my reflection that makes me cry, not because I'm sad but because your perception of my reflection is consumed by the world's deception

and I'm afraid that a mother's affection is not enough to push me in the direction of accepting my reflection.

Correction

I'm afraid that a mother's protection from my reflection is the very thing that blinded me to see just how the world would view me. 

And no degree would force them to agree that I would be good enough. 

Tough 

It's a hard pill to swallow that no matter what my complexion will follow.

Not who I am, what I've done, or what I've won.

You know I think they tell us to achieve all that we can achieve just to put us in spaces where they hold the power.

Spaces where my complexion speaks for me and not who I am, what I've done, or what I've won.

Don't dare question superiority or authority because if you do you're just the "angry black woman." 

Maybe I am angry. 

Angry because being a black woman has become popularized by pop culture.

Culture vultures 

Everything is an aesthetic

But I bet if you had to walk a mile in my shoes you would still choose to be you. 

Luckily you have the choice of choosing 

Me? 

The only thing I can choose is to not be angry because if I don't

I'm just the "angry black woman."