Say Lil Momma’…..#TristaDaniell #FreeWrite

Somebody just “say lil mamma”d me across a parking lot.

Flailing his arms to get my attention. Yelling like a fool in distress.

I walked on. I’m not a cat, I don’t respond to cat calls.

But….he persisted.



But I don’t. I quicken my step.

Refusing to accepting my disdain, he flung his prepubescent chest over the balcony, as if to extend himself -uninvited- toward me.

I cringed and frowned.

He rocked a dirty white doo-rag over his head; and flashed a crusty mouth grin, exposing teeth I’m sure hadn’t been brushed.

Shirtless, he continued grinning, and rubbed gritty palms across pieces of dehydrated taco meat that served as a poor excuse for chest hair….

Then, adjusted his you-know-what in boxers that were way too thin, and much too low, to pass for outside wear…

…and certainly not for conversation with a woman of my caliber.

Obviously, I flashed my ring, reset my gaze, and ignored him like the alt-right ignores black lives…..

I inquired of self,

Do my sistas really respond to this?”

Then laughed, “na….that can’t be true.”

Til’ I walked back outside and guess who’d joined him?

His boo.

Sittin’ on his lap, kissin’ on that filthy doo-rag, muggin’ me like I’m her competition.

I shook my head and let out a sigh.

There’s a certain kind of woman who responds to that approach.

She ain’t me.

-Trista Daniell

Black writers, lesbian writers, lgbt fiction, black lesbians

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