Transcript:
This is an elegy to all the things we become before we're done becoming women
One: elegy for the freshman girlfriend, whose optimism was buttermilk at the breakfast table,
One: elegy for the freshman girlfriend, whose optimism was buttermilk at the breakfast table,
Turned sour by a boy for whom my face wasn't pretty in the way he preferred.
So I baked my body into buffet,
A pie he could cut open, sample,
Take a slice of what he liked
Eyes like flies, all the maggoted compliments I swallowed
Take a slice of what he liked
Eyes like flies, all the maggoted compliments I swallowed
Because somewhere,
This must be a delicacy
And somewhere,
And somewhere,
I must be really, really lucky.
Though not Christian enough to pray for
Not even trophy enough to pay for.
I spent half of college trying to get this boy to love me,
Though not Christian enough to pray for
Not even trophy enough to pay for.
I spent half of college trying to get this boy to love me,
The other half trying to get over him,
Well "that girl," she's been dead for years now
Shes been dead for years now but everyone keeps asking me to conjure up her ghost.
Well "that girl," she's been dead for years now
Shes been dead for years now but everyone keeps asking me to conjure up her ghost.
Two: ode to the slut. Who doesn't fuck.
But still a slut for not letting him hit.
Ladies, there are always two ways of looking at a condom in a wrapper,
Ladies, there are always two ways of looking at a condom in a wrapper,
Open your legs and you won't find freedom,
Close them and you won't find purity
Purity is just contraception against evil thoughts,
Freedom is knowing your hip is a hinge,
Close them and you won't find purity
Purity is just contraception against evil thoughts,
Freedom is knowing your hip is a hinge,
Use your body at your own discretion and seek your own pleasure,
What lies between your thighs is a man's Genesis
What lies between your thighs is a man's Genesis
So how dare he spit upon scripture.
To all the women who've been pried open,
To all the women who've been pried open,
Propped up and jada posed,
I'm sorry there was no funeral for the going out of your smile and the coming in of strangers
To all the women, who've been called
I'm sorry there was no funeral for the going out of your smile and the coming in of strangers
To all the women, who've been called
Hoes, boppers, and skanks
What's in a name but a whole lot of rape culture
What's a slut anyway, but a pimp in sheep's clothing
What's in a name but a whole lot of rape culture
What's a slut anyway, but a pimp in sheep's clothing
Three: ode to the bitch. Who's not a bitch.
Just doesn't always feel like shaking hands after the show.
You know, I tried to tame the Leo in me.
Cut all of my hair off to get rid of my ego but she still comes roaring in like a red dragon
'Cause she be my protection, a pitbull in a skirt, please
You know, I tried to tame the Leo in me.
Cut all of my hair off to get rid of my ego but she still comes roaring in like a red dragon
'Cause she be my protection, a pitbull in a skirt, please
I'm a bull mastiff on the scent of a fresh kill,
And I'm still learning how to heal
And I'm still learning how to heal
Four: ode to the surgeons
To the knife we wield deathly in our right hand
And to the sutras we made of our own mouths
Where nothing else could close the wounds
To my first love, and how I had to cut him out,
To the knife we wield deathly in our right hand
And to the sutras we made of our own mouths
Where nothing else could close the wounds
To my first love, and how I had to cut him out,
At 19 and again, at 21 and again at 22,
Like a field doctor without supplies on the battlefield,
Like a field doctor without supplies on the battlefield,
I had to improvise
I marched through my own heart, armed with nothing and came out the other side,
My hands might've been murderers but my coat was still white
I marched through my own heart, armed with nothing and came out the other side,
My hands might've been murderers but my coat was still white
And my shirt was still clean,
Five: ode to the mothers who are also martyrs, who are also daughters of God and therefore saints.
Ladies, how many times, how many times have we tried to save someone
Five: ode to the mothers who are also martyrs, who are also daughters of God and therefore saints.
Ladies, how many times, how many times have we tried to save someone
With our love
Been bread, butter, and breast,
Done done our best to give good head
I mean knowledge, wisdom, understanding.
Ode to the poet.
Been bread, butter, and breast,
Done done our best to give good head
I mean knowledge, wisdom, understanding.
Ode to the poet.
On my best days she is all that I am.
On my worst days she is all that I hope to me.
Seven: Ode to the impossible
I'm still a redhead in my heart just like my grandmama.
Have traveled to 20 or more countries,
I'm still a redhead in my heart just like my grandmama.
Have traveled to 20 or more countries,
Wake up every day and love what I do and
Still wonder if I'm doing enough, if I'm worth enough,
And sometimes all this self-doubt gets tiring,
More tired than a bag of old diamonds
More tired than a bag of old diamonds
So I ask myself, if today were the last today,
Would I be okay with the life that I've lived?
Would I be okay with the woman I am now?
And then I forgive myself, no matter what the answer,
I forgive myself until there is no more sand left in Egypt
I remember the mountains in my last name and the victory in the middle
Repeat it over and over to myself as if it were a mantra,
I remember the mountains in my last name and the victory in the middle
Repeat it over and over to myself as if it were a mantra,
Alysia Nicole Harris, the unforgotten victory, the victory of the truth
It took me 7 years, 7 whole years,
It took me 7 years, 7 whole years,
To go from that girl to this woman
but ain't God good
but ain't God good
And ain't I great.