‘Dear Michelle’: A Young Sisters Open Letter to First Lady, Michelle Obama

To some people you are just a woman; to fragile to be fearless.

To me you are iconic—timeless even.

You are that rose that Aretha sang about.

You know—the one that is and always will be a rose?

Your spirit is in full bloom in life’s garden,

And dispersed throughout the seas.

All of this and more is what you mean to me.

Rooted deep in the soil that our ancestors plowed—

The product of black foremothers, who could do nothing but dream.

You are black women— in all our diversity and depth.

Maya Angelou spoke of you—

Welling and swelling and bearing in the tide of us.

You channel our inner royalty;

The Cleopatra of our dreams—

The Nefertiti of our hearts.

No need to be adorned with gold to have worth,

Nor crowned with jewels to be a Queen.

All of this and more is what you mean to me.

You are the prayer Margaret Garner prayed when they came for her children—

Sojourner’s Truth even.

You are that song Billie sang when there was no holiday for “back folk,

just the strange fruit decorating the trees.

You’ve got Madame CJ’s in the bend of your hair.

and Winnie Mandela’s in your speech.

All of this and more is what you mean to me.

In a generation where sisters seem to have lost their way,

selling their souls for cheap—

You are the light.

A constant reminder to plant a seed.

I’ve grown underneath your watch,

and been humbled at your feet.

All of this and more is what you mean to me.

You teach us what we can do with our clothes on—

And what can be accomplished when we get off our knees—

Stop bowing to a thrown of materialism.

Stop looking for someone other than ourselves to need.

You show us who we really are.

Not just who the media would have us to be.

All of this and more is what you mean to me.

You give video vixens back their virtue—

By showing us the true flavor of love is sweet.

You bring the nay-sayers’ to shame,

And make the hearts of men skip a beat.

But as they sit and wonder,

And flash their camera’s just to see—

They’ll never truly know just what it means to be:

A black woman with a burden,

On a mission to set her people free—

Giving little girls of color something to aspire to be.

They’d rather see you broken, bowed head—

Bludgeoned down to your knees.

But by his grace you stand tall just so I can see.

That’s why all of this and more is what you mean to me!