by Lauren Bealore
This poem was created to highlight the untold love story of Sojourner Truth. Around 1815, Truth met and fell in love with a slave named Robert from a neighboring farm. Robert's owner (Charles Catton, Jr., a landscape painter) forbade their relationship; he did not want his slave to have children with a slave he did not own, because he would not own the children. One day Robert snuck over to see Truth. When Catton and his son found him, they savagely beat Robert until someone finally intervened, and Truth never saw Robert again. He later died as a result of the injuries, and the experience haunted Truth throughout her life. During the time of slavery, there were many relationships in the slave community that were limited by the slave master’s dominion. It is said that to this day the lack of love able to be had in the slave community went on to effect relationships in the black community even in today’s society. This poem highlights Sojourner’s one weakness in her strength and the voice for many black women today that suffer to balance love and life.
Ain’t I a woman
I held the bleeding heart of many men
But none bled harder than the one ruined by Catton
The one I would never see again
Ain’t I a woman
I spoke the word of 10,000 tongues
But only wanted to speak to one
Our language was held by none
Ain’t I a woman
I raised my hand to question man
To strike discord in the everyday plan
But I raised to the sun to plead for his hand
Aint I a woman
My strength held the rights of cups overflown
And honey I saw the seeds I planted grown
But the pain from the beating I bear alone
Ain’t I a woman
See, I wasn’t really free
Because my life was held in captivity
By the love that never could be
But because I’m a woman, I’m told that this is me
My daughters of even the barren womb won’t be able to flee
They will be confined to society
That’s what I learned that day in 1815
That even when I’m nice I’m mean
That I’m dull even when I gleam
That I’m dirty and won’t sparkle clean
That I don’t deserve love that intertwines in my seams
Because I’m a woman
I’m limited to a picturesque scene
Designed by a Master of manipulative schemes
Haunted by freedom only in my dreams
