Kat François
RHYME & REASON is Kat’s first published collection of poetry.
Having become the first person in the UK to win a televised slam in 2004, she became World Slam Poetry Champion a year later.
She is currently starring in the BBC educational programme BIG SLAM, and features on BBC radio, including Radio 4’s BESPOKEN WORD.
Her love for words extends beyond poetry, and her play SEVEN TIMES ME received critical acclaim at Edinburgh and Adelaide Fringe Festivals. Her latest work, RAISING LAZARUS, a play based on the true story of her relative joining the British West Indies Regiment in the First World War, received its debut at Theatre Royal Stratford East, London in 2009.
Kat’s poetry and playwriting have seen her perform throughout Europe, as well as Canada, Australia and India.
Kat has 20 years of experience working with children as a mentor, personal and social care educator, as well as teaching poetry and drama to children and adults.
ORDINARY
You spotted mum and me in the street.
Jumped in the back of your blue Ford
She told me you were my father.
I shyly said hello,
There were some similarities
You had teeny mouse ears just like mine
Our skin colourings matched, dark chocolate.
But I dreamt you would be taller
With a handsome movie star face
Dazzling pearly teeth
And manicured nails.
I dreamt you’d have a deep man voice,
a warm enveloping laugh.
I dreamt that when we met you would hug me
And shower me with love and long lost apologies.
But that did not happen
You were ordinary
You could have been anyone’s father
I made a mental note to ask mum if she was sure.
I took sneaky looks at you
Through the rear view mirror
You smiled
I did not smile back.
NATURAL GLORY
Thick concentric rings
regally sit on top of Nubian heads
each strand, defiant
in the face of continued
rejection and mutilation.
Each coil an antenna
creating a direct link to the heavens
channeling special blessings
which whisper affirmations
of self pride
and eternal beauty,
so all little black girls who have
naps, afros or braids
know they are special
regardless of the images of perfection
shoved down their young throats.
Their mothers are not at war with them
but eagerly accept their natural glory
lovingly wash, caress, stroke and comb
until intricate designs
passed down through generations
criss cross shiny scalps,
enhancing thick lips, wide noses
and complimenting an array of brown hues.
They learn they are worthy regardless of the length,
texture of hair or shade of skin.
Negative words bounce off sturdy backs
for they possess an armour
which enables them to see and feel beauty
where many only see and feel ugly
causing them to stride around
with super heroine confidence.
They walk as tall and proud as warriors
and do not care if their locks
fail to blow in the wind
nor do they feel inadequate when white girls
or straight haired sisters preen by.
They do not spend hours
dying, straightening, transforming
placing jumpers or towels on heads
so they too can flick endlessly.
They do not grow into women who do not allow men
to massage their aching scalps, sensually
missing out on important, male, female intimacy.
They are not the kind of women
who try and maintain exact sexual positions
which do not cause weaves
or wigs to be disturbed.
Neither are they afraid of rain
but graciously welcome
the cool liquid which sustains life.
Thick concentric rings
regally sit on top of grown Nubian heads
each strand
defiant in the face
of continued rejection and mutilation.
These women banish
false images of attraction
shoved down the throats
of daughters, nieces, aunts,
mothers and grandmothers
turn their back on Eurocentric ideals
which prove wholeheartedly unattainable
and wholeheartedly accept themselves.
