Allayah: Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou

Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou

 By Allayah Beamon

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
but when I start to tell them,
they think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me.

I walk into a room
just as cool as you please,
and to a man,
the fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
a hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me

 Men themselves have wondered

what they see in me.
They try so much
but they can't touch
my inner mystery.
When I try to show them
they say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me.

Now you understand
just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
it ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me.

I am a phenomenal woman despite the kinkiness of my hair, or the wideness of my hips. I know I don’t fit the image of Beauty America imposes upon us, but to myself I am beautiful. I may not have blonde hair or blue eyes, pale skin, and straight hair; but I have brown eyes, wavy long hair, wide hips, and no matter what society makes me feel, I know my worth and I know I am beautiful.

Sometimes growing up in America, a society mainly dominated by white European males, I feel like an outsider, race isn’t the only issue but my sex and gender come into play as well. They seem to all intersect and reflect the discrimination that America is stereotyped to. 

I have to work harder, because of my genetic make-up. I have to be domestic, loving, nurturing, and submissive.

But what if I don’t want to be?

I don’t fit the perfect image of the Feminine Mystique. I am not a housewife or a homemaker.

Just because I am a woman doesn’t mean I am like every person with the same sex as me.

I am a not a weak woman, I am strong.

“It’s nothing wrong with being different”, mom always says.

I am different, I am unique, and I am not the ordinary or average American woman. I come from a family of multiple races.

What am I?

I am Black, White, Latino, and Native American woman, female, girl and lady.

Who am I?

I am a young bi-racial student in America.

In this country I call home, I battle with my identity, on applications I contemplate what race or ethnicity to mark down. I can’t be the alone one. The struggle brings about my insecurities. Do I put Caucasian because I will be given privileges?

Or do I mark African-American so they can feel sorry for my hardships?

Who do I want to be?

I just want to be successful, wealthy, educated, and well known in the Entertainment Industry as a Lawyer. I yearn to be free societal norms, or limitations. I know if I put my mind to it I can do and be anything I desire.

A student named Brittany from UCLA, mentions, “Out of my class of 400 people, I just feel like another person, a student, a number, but coming to LMU I felt I was getting starred at, I know I am chocolate and my hair is nappy but I am just like you. I will never and have never fit the image of beauty that America envisions, but sometimes I wish I did I wonder what my life would be like if I were just like the little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. Would I be able to walk through life with ease”?

I agree with Brittany in my freshmen year at LMU I was picked on my English teacher because I was a black student in his eyes. Obviously he based my race on the color of my skin. But I don’t call people like that racist, I call the ignorant ASSHOLES. Because my family history clearly shows I am 15 percent white, but he would know that because he doesn’t care to know. Receiving F’s after F’s and race is the reason why.

My skin may be brown, and my hair may be curly, but that doesn’t make me who I am? I bet I can speak more languages then that teacher, I bet I can accomplish more as well. But I am not comparing myself to him because I am different.

He did not break, although he thought he could.

I used to be insecure but one day I looked in the mirror, and noticed how beautiful I am, how smart, talented, and blessed I am.

Just because I look different, smell different, walk different, talk different, doesn’t mean my different is inferior to anyone else’s. I am proud of the color and body and walk in, and I feel bad for those who aren’t.