Ode to the Medusa in Me
At the age of 3 or 4
I remember being a free child
In Daycare
I would run wild
Whenever I could
Scraping my
Bare knees against brick walls
Had there been no confine
My knees would have been fine
You would think the sting of rubbing
Alcohol would keep me bound
But… it didn’t
Like me, my hair would also run wild
Yearn to be free
Stretch to the sky to claim that agency
Imagine a wild child’s surprise each time I
Was called to come be still
So my mom could tame my hair
She tried so hard to tame it
Only successful temporarily
Because of my hair’s wild nature
I earned myself the nickname
Medusa
In ode to her intense, passionate locs
So many years have passed and for fun
My mom will still call me Medusa sometimes
Confession: I still like to run
Free and my hair as well
Little did I know how lucky
I would be to have been
Named after her as a child
What I’ve realized since then is that
Medusa is synonymous to Black woman
And…Black woman is synonymous to monster
Monster — because they can’t tame her
When she shoots them daggers as gazes
Naturally they can’t take it
Call her gaze an attitude
Call a hurt ego being turned to stone
They tell Medusa she has too much
Backbone
They figure they’ll call her terrifying
Since her confidence
Is jarring
Of course they don’t expect a
Black woman, a Medusa,
Like me
To own her pride
They want Medusa, to
Shrivel up and die
Shrink up and make them
Feel better about themselves
Give them all the space and
Leave none for us
Which is evidently why
They reduced my namesake
To a Gorgon
A bitter, vicious thing
A monster easily defined
Why are they unaware
I, like Medusa, am not someone to be confined
Why else does my hair, like hers
Not fit into neat, straight lines
Medusa knows best that her hair
Has a mind of its own
Defiant and wanting to be left alone
Away from their harm, their danger
Her body or her hair or her mind
Is no stranger
To the slander they bring
So I, like Medusa, use my gaze, my lack of
Response to protect me
My hair is wild, I am wild
And because they fail to tame me
In my entirety, her entirety, in our entirety
They tear down pieces of our appearance
Collage them together to create the narrative they want
For us
And we shock them with our brilliance
Since that narrative does not come from us
The glory of our story
Reduces their narrative to a mere phrase
They’re bound to feel their lies coil around them like snakes
Wrapped around their body
Binding them to their disgrace
There’s no wonder they feared Medusa’s hissing mane
No wonder why it was subject to be tamed
My hair is wild, I am wild
Medusa, Black woman, I, am not someone to be confined
They knew their narrative would be dismantled
It was only a matter of time
See, they attempted to
Handcuff us to the labels of Scary, Imposter, Bitter, Vicious
And in return, we only bounce back more ambitious
So if the definition is “A Black woman becoming stronger”
By all means, call ME, Medusa… a monster
– Stephanie Dinsae
