Dear white woman,

You say you love me,

But do you love the brown me?

Do you see my curves,

The way they write multiple letters,

in a language that you do not understand.

Do you wish to understand?

The way I perk my lips to give kisses,

to brown skin that has been scarred way too many times

for us to even remember how we got them.

Do you love those parts of me?

The parts that still bleed,

the wounds that are still opened,

skinned so deep,

it is impossible to be fixed.

Do you simply think this needs fixing?

Dear white woman,

I do not need you to save me,

I do not need the invite to your kind of revolution,

I do not need your validation.

So before you say you love me,

I do not need you to love me.

For once,

I need you to listen.