These Hips Poem by K.C Baylor

When I close my eyes and think of a place I instantly see Africa.

The motherland of my mother and her ancestors,

As my eyes search the African dirt I realize this is where it started,

This is the place of my original birth.

Although I am an American I know I'm no cousin to the African

Because I am the African

Down in the valleys of rich green soil and on top of the hills of the Serengeti.

I see that these hips, my hips belong to many others

I may have lost touch with my native tongue

But know that these hips, my hips support Africa's daughters and sons

The color of my skin may not represent the very roots of my ancestors.

My African sponsored naps may now be relaxed but I am still African by choice

Changed by my American experience I can still hear the voices of my African descendants

Saying, "we waited in the water, will you be the one to see God's answers"

Clouded by the deceptions and the "intellectual" stereotypes placed on

my people is the infinite wisdom of our God given purpose, Our God

given talent, our God given ability

My hips, these wide hips carry the rhythm of generational beats on a tribal drum

It is these hips, these wide African hips that carry many African
generations to come.

It is when I close my eyes that I see the remnants of Africa's children scattered.

Separated and torn not only by square miles but years of distance and cultural Ignorance

I see myself in the faces of my Jamaican brothers and sisters

Trinidadian women and men another tribe of African descent

I am proud that these hips, my hips have helped birth and carry

multiple shades of Mahogany, cinnamon, dark chocolate and mocha the

wonderful shades of God's creation, as we know it

Let us stand around and celebrate the creation of these hips, these wide African hips.