It must be hard to be seen
As a blood sucker.
Immortalized.
Lurking through all of the disappointment in history and time – seeing humans go on fruitless ventures hurting themselves over and over again
Maybe to be a black woman is a vampire.
Always hungry.
Because unfed mouth must at some point feed on something,
Cling to someone they know when there is no other viable source.
Maybe that’s why some keep their mouth mouths shut
We’re afraid of people seeing our fangs and ripping them out
And in constant aching pain we’ll only be heard as murmurs at bus stops and train stations-
All but a few too scared to follow the, “You, come here”
Most only hear the flick of a two pronged tongue- not the lapping at a swollen wounds,
Begging for drops of blood
A swallow of their so-called humanity.
You sweet thing with a seemingly full belly,
My kin how I hunger for your vigor
Your livelihood ,
Envy churns when we are left famished.
It’s all trickles down- like drool from an unfed mouth.
That’s why lots of us sequester ourselves,
Or are never found when taken
Lost in little pockets of places never marked by a map.
Dim and rainy- untouched by the sun we once loved- un-discovered.
The plight of a black woman is to repeat yourself over and over again and not be listened to.
I’ve been learning that lesion repedently recently.
That sad fermenting wound,
Saddled with the obligation of knowledge even when one is too young to know,
naivety is never assured,
To be a black woman (I know) is to have your mouth forced open.
To have to speak
For the words to sound like a yelp,
Cracked open rib cages pour out hunger struck moaning,
Distorting sound- it curdles like lime juice to baylies
”That’s not what I said”
The plight of a black woman is to repeat yourself over and over again and not be listened to.
Until the blood clots.
Tattoos my body with a scar,
Until swallowing becomes easy again
Until our hunger can be satiated
Until sinking our teeth in could be read as benevolence not bloodlust.
The plight of a black woman is to repeat yourself over and over again and not be listened to.
I’ve been learning that lesion repedently recently.
To be a vampire
in that unfound place that’s where we remain huddled in so called secrecy
Finally free to crack our backs and age
Grow our nails and hair out
Unwanted yet somehow always needed
Because You can’t have both
GiGi Galloway
Artist Statement
In this poetic graphic collaboration, I’ve sought to reflect the layered sociality within the double consciousness of being a Black woman—the tension between constantly navigating our truth and how the world selectively sees, uses, assumes, or dismisses our value both consciously and unconsciously. With value in the poetic metaphors at play that communicate this internal and external understanding, I also graphically imbue the visual with a sensation for honoring the resilient and complex grace with how Black women navigate this threaded reality, along with the self-channeled energy we harness to continuously transform and transcend the repetitive societal labor embedded in our shared experience.
Young Chicago Authors
Young Chicago Authors offers high-quality programs that nurture artistic development, social-emotional learning, and academic success through poetry and performance. Its Rooted & Radical Youth Poetry Festival is the largest of its kind in the world, gathering over 200 youth poets from across Chicago, Chicago-land, and Northwest Indiana. The festival centers storytelling over competition and fosters listening, empathy, and creative risk. The ten poets featured here advanced through the 2025 festival and offered lines that were impossible to ignore.
Poetry Foundation
This program is made possible with support from the Poetry Foundation, which amplifies poetry and celebrates poets by fostering spaces for all to create, experience, and share poetry.
