Unapologetically Loud, Unbreakably Black
by Milli Femme
I was born in the brilliance of a shout,
In the rhythm of a Sunday choir
Hands clappin’, hips swayin’, hearts lifted higher.
Before I even spoke, I had a sound.
Before I walked, I had a stance.
I came into this world in full command
Unapologetically loud.
Unbreakably Black.
They tried to teach me to shrink.
To whisper when I was meant to sing.
To make my edges smooth and my tone polite.
To hide the thunder in my tongue
And call that “gracious.”
But I've ever been the quiet kind.
My spirit lives to testify.
My guide told me
“Baby, don’t you let this world hush you.”
She said, “They fear the echo of a Black woman who knows herself.”
And Lord, did I learn.
I learned that our laughter is protest.
Our joy is rebellion.
Our tears are baptism.
And our survival
That’s a gospel right there.
I was told I was “too much”
By folks who didn't had enough soul to understand me.
Too bold, too real, too honest, too Black.
But too alive is what I call it.
My voice carries generations
known and uncovered
The hum of field hands,
The hymn of freedom walkers,
The heat of women who healed nations
While rocking babies on their hips.
I come from women who prayed in secret
And praised in public.
Who buried their pain beneath magnolias
And rose again as beauty.
I come from fathers who bent but didn’t break,
Who spoke in wisdom even when the world called it rage.
I come from us.
From rhythm and resistance,
From Sunday dinners and side-eyes that say,
“Baby, don’t rip your tights.”
Unapologetically loud.
Unbreakably Black.
That’s not arrogance
That’s evidence.
Evidence that my existence
Is a miracle they tried to erase.
That my melanin holds memory
Older than any book they banned.
I don’t whisper when I say my name.
I pronounce it like a psalm.
Every syllable sacred.
Every letter lit with lineage.
Because I know what it costs
For me to be this free.
I know the weight of history
Pressed against my back like a hand saying,
“Go on, baby. Keep walking.”
And I do.
Head high, heart open, hips steady
Because quiet never saved a single one of us.
So I speak.
I speak for the mothers, the daughters,
The sisters who never got to scream.
I speak for the ones who swallowed their power
Just to keep the peace.
No more.
Not me.
My voice is my offering.
My truth, my crown.
Unapologetically loud.
Unbreakably Black.
That’s my testimony
Wrapped in rhythm, dipped in grace.
So when I enter a room,
Understand
I bring my whole choir with me.
Ancestors humming through my heartbeat,
Spirit steady on my tongue.
I am not noise.
I am music.
I am not angry.
I am awake.
And I will not quiet down
So the world can stay comfortable.
Because I was never meant to whisper.
I was born to resound.
Unapologetically loud.
Unbreakably Black.
And still
Soft enough to love,
Strong enough to lead,
And rooted enough to rise.
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