Be a Lady

Be a lady,
On the withering days
of your soul,
Grow fast even when all withers away.
Mother your kids early.

On the days your voice no longer
sings tragic chaos,
bury it.
You’re a lady. Be strong.

Be a lady, my child,
Be beautiful with a price tag… Talk less.
Wear dresses that cover your knees—
you’re an African.

Conceal the bruises he named you for.
Don’t show it,
we have to protect the family image.

Be a lady, my daughter,
Don’t wear makeup—
men don’t like it.
You’re not to be seen laugh out loud,
or it is indecent.
“Mom didn’t raise her well,” (he said).Again, a lady.

Be a lady, my bird,
Fly, but not too high.
Don’t be too strong to suppress men.
Wear a perfume vibrant enough
for your decency.

Don’t be too expressive—
your emotions carry
your child’s strength.

Be a lady, my dove,
with all the purity.
Don’t be seductive if you look too good.
Care about others’ feelings. Don’t react,
it’s too dramatic and ungentle.

You’re a solution, not a problem.

Be a lady, my offspring,
I am your mother.

Grow too fast to understand
my misspelled cultures,
To reach my dead but unburied expectations.
The creams in your room
Deafen me every night, my love.

But I am a lady after all.
Be patient,
Be everyone’s cup of tea…
Just be a lady.

Yïη eη nyan jieng…
Yïη eη nyan chol.

But mama,
what happens to
the bruises in my soul,
the scars in my heart?
How do I conceal them?