Hypersexualization of Afroetry ( The black female body)

Fetishized; my worthiness is measured

in cup sizes and big booty.

Integrity is compromised and dismissed.

Body parts named- policed and sexualized.

They say; “it’s the sway of my African belle

derriere, the clumsiness of my breasts, the

thickness of my lips and the arch of my back”.


Objectified by the media, my nudity is

plastered on billboards, social media and marketed

in raunchy music videos and sex magazines.

Bartered in foreign currency for a bit of the

exotic experience.

Perceived as promiscuous- sold for consumption.

My body is just entertainment and a peculiar

scientific breakthrough.


I am a product of disrespect.

The streets mock my pride, patriarchal

society trashes my name with a twisted

perception of my body.

Lewd; incapable of love- a belligerent

woman with an insatiable sexual appetite.

My tinted shade is salaciously appreciated

with sexist comments, but not pursued.

I am only good enough for an experiment.

Grope me in public- bring me to my knees because

somehow my history conditioned me to be a sex

slave and the rape culture is nothing but a myth.

His ego must be massaged.


Stereotyped; I am the proverbial angry black

woman waving the blood stained banner and

cussing out at everyone- like the world owes

me something.

Baptized with sperm as “Jezebel”- promiscuous

and hyper-sexual.

Archetypes of my history are smudged on the

walls of public lavatories as a legacy of colonialism

and imprinted on my consciousness.

Voyeurs of my ancestors lined up on the auction

block come back to me in sepia each time my black

femininity is masqueraded on the stripper pole.

I am a symbol of trauma and degradation.

I wear the shroud of shame that Sarah Baartman

wore when she was paraded in the freak shows in

London and Paris.


Too much”, they say- My body is too much!

“Afroetry, that dress is indecent; it doesn’t

flatter your body size”.

“Your hair is nappy; you need a few lashes of

lye on your scalp”.

See, i can’t control the way my rebellious curves

riot inside my dress.

I just can’t stop my belle derriere from bouncing

when i walk.


Anecdotes of my femininity now catalyzed

by stereotypes leave shards of my identity

dripping over my thighs.

Affecting the way that i see myself in the

presence of the hegemonic depictions of my


I am not a object to be fetishized- or apart of

the body shaming brood in twisted society’s

hypersexualization of the black woman.

I wear this beautiful body with pride.


©FloetryC 2017


body of woman






Author: AfroetryC

I am an African woman and a mother to a precious little angel. I love to use the term "Afro-floetic Queen" mostly to describe my poetry and my roots. I love poetry...art, soul music and inspirational bits of knowledge to offer advice and counseling to those who need it. I can be very witty, straight forward but fun. Ha. ha... A colorful perception of the world - expressed in my poetry. I want to inspire people with my Poetry...give them hope, while also advising them. Life is a learning process and i am happy when one of my pieces directly affects or inspires one of my readers. Let's take a detour around experience, and let me fill your minds with sweet poetic juices.... Note: Just changed my user name from FloetryC to AfroetryC because the latter is more personal and describes my Spoken Word Poetry better.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s