By Kellen Gaither
Our bond is tight like Bantu our hair adorned with Cantu our path straight like cornrows singing the songs they don’t know. Pull our hair into a puffball back straight, chin up, stand tall. Twist our hair until it locks up because there is no dread in our locks, hun. Take the Bo Derek braids and bring them back to Fulani, don’t let them take it again, stick like Clyde and Bonnie. Form your 4C curls into an afro and stick a pick in it so they know that’s soul. My black brothers and sisters your hair is your crown, you can wear it up, sideways, backwards, and down. It don’t matter, you wear it how you like because if you love it, who are they to dislike?
Kellen Gaither – 2021 Featured Poet – is a junior from Cincinnati, Ohio. She is a psychology major with a minor in gender, sexuality, and women’s studies who is also working on her prerequisites for occupational therapy. Beautiful Black Boy, Businessman, The Hood Isn’t Even Ours Anymore, I Can Feel It, Not Allowed to Hurt, The Talk