Sylvia Wynter's Dream

written by R.M

 “That deh girl deh cant beat me” you said- little miss petite poised and  proper brown skin girl.You expected the crown to be yours  only on this premise.I remember the disdain that rattled my  curves and core to a grand decision to enter into a space where cellulite, fupa and 193 pounds has no beauty and therefore no purpose. All this so you could learn a lesson.All the other girls like the societal puppets they affirm their allegiance to your  inevitable reign. 

I remember how you ended up not vying  yet your ideology shone bright on the faces of another- light skinned, thread waist, stick figure competitor.I remember clearly how the tears ran down her face- then red as a tomato- a woman scorned at the injustice of 193 pounds wearing the crown. I remember the weight on my head fogged with evanescent rage at such pomposity . Though I was elated, your friends were different as they hugged and congratulated me on my victory.

I remember  growing up after watching pageants. I would  strut the halls of my house with a smile as big as my thighs , in that moment the world was my oyster and I was high.I posed with poised to collect my award for being beauty with a purpose- miss universe. I would do this every year.Thud, Thud, reality came crashing down – I was now a teen ,of the unspoken law which excludes myself from the crown. Aha! then I figured I could get to this journey on  a treadmill and low carbs .My adult self now sadly chuckles at this 1 title and  1 almost later- still very much a Lizzo. To date this unspoken law remains Intact unless its about heritage and culture.