Absolute
The summer I was ten a teenager
named Kim butterflied my hair. Cornrows
curling into braids
behind each ear.
Everybody’s wearing this style now, Kim said.
Who could try to tell me
I wasn’t beautiful. The magic
in something as once ordinary
as hair that for too long
had not been good enough
now winged and amazing
now connected
to a long line of crowns.
Now connected
to a long line of girls
moving through Brooklyn with our heads
held so high, our necks ached. You must
know this too – that feeling
of being so much more than
you once believed yourself to be
so much more than your
too-skinny arms
and too-big feet and
too-long fingers and
too-thick and stubborn hair
All of us now
suddenly seen
the trick mirror that had us believe
we weren’t truly beautiful
suddenly shifts
and there we are
and there we are
and there we are again
and Oh! How could we not have seen
ourselves before? So much more
We are so much more.
Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline Woodson. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on August 12, 2020, by the Academy of American Poets.
“‘Absolute’ was written about the beauty, obviously, of Black and Brown girls, and it’s based on a true story. The first time I got my hair cornrowed, I saw my amazingness, which my daughter, of course, says I’m conceited to even say. I want Black and Brown girls to walk through this world knowing how amazing they are. Knowing how brilliant they are. Knowing how magic they are. So this poem was written for, and is dedicated to, each and every one of them.”
—Jacqueline Woodson
Photo Credit: Tiffany A. Bloomfield
Jacqueline Woodson’s most recent novel is Red at the Bone (Riverhead Books, 2019). She lives in Brooklyn and Brewster, New York.
About Poem-a-Day
Poem-a-Day is the original and only daily digital poetry series featuring over 250 new, previously unpublished poems by today’s talented poets each year.
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About the poem Absolute, strongly I believe that many of us prefer a rainbow colorful heart than pretty external looks what remembered the following Rumi poem:
You suppose that you’re the trouble,
But you’re really the cure.
You suppose that you’re the lock in the door
But you’re really the key that opens it.
It’s too bad you want to be someone else.
You don’t see your own face, your own beauty.
Yet, no one’s face is more beautiful than yours.
Thank you for sharing the beautiful and so true Rumi poem. I appreciate your support of my work. Best, Madeline