Black Ourstory
Happy Privilege Check Month to all my counterparts who have to prove how not racist they are or how “woke” they are by picking the cherries of the fruit of my culture without returning the seed from which it came, Africana Mother Earth.
Happy 28 Days of Manipulated, Censored History from white hands that lynch, white lips that spat out hatred against the darkness of my skin that enveloped me more comfortably than white sheets, and white privilege so ingrained in the American DNA, that it makes the HIV epidemic look like a flu season.
Happy Forgotten Ancestry Month to all of my ancestors whose umbilical cord I was cut from too soon… but don’t you worry! For $29.99 a month, you too can find out and understand your stolen identity from the swipers always swiping.
Happy Give Us Our Reparations Month to all the mothers who pray to their gods and cover their children under the blood of their protectors to prevent their children’s names from being hashtagged into blue bullets.
Fathers sitting in prison watching their 50 years of a dime bag on a street corner turn into a 50 million dollar investment on Wall Street free of consequences.
Daughters being told that their hair, body, and their personality must represent white because in the American dream that is the only thing that seems about right.
white right, no alt right,
but control and delete our sons because God forbid there’s a strong, Black man in the house other than a Jesus portrait.
Happy No White Guilt But Accountability Month for every person who believes this poem comes from hate. For this is not a “I Hate White People Piece”, for this is a “I Hate When There Is No Accountability Piece”.
For every person that wan’na walk like us but not walk with us. For every person that wan’na be a down negro until the system puts its knee down on your neck like a negro.
For every person that wan’na swing with the blues until the lynch ropes hung like strange fruit swings you blue.
For this is a piece for the moderate that thinks being Black is just dark tan lines and rap songs till they realize those tan lines are bruises their ancestors could never muster under the sun hidden by floating cotton and these lyrics are spirituals for the life my ancestors always dreamed of.
Happy Patriots Resilience Month to all the Black people who defied the odds with their movements, defied gravity with their hair, and used the term, “because you’re Black” as a motivator instead of a deteriorator.
Happy Marvel At Us Month to all the T’Challas, and Okoyès, and M’bakus who wear their Wakandan crowns with pride in their hearts.
Spoiler Alert!
But no matter how many times Thanos snaps his fingers, we fight back harder than Killmonger’s comeback.
Happy Black Boy Joy and Black Girl Magic to all the Black people who are itching to smile from the shout outs in this poem.
Don’t be despaired dark, Black woman.
Don’t be despaired dark, Black man.
Your skin may be dark as night but they’ll envy you when they see the stars in your smile and the universe in your eyes.
Happy Black–
I meant, World History Month for we are the living legends that they speak about once our bodies turns to sand.
We are the inspirations that inspired empires like Rome to move buildings like feathers.
We are the Promise Land that Moses did not live to see.
We are the dream that they couldn’t kill on a Memphis balcony hotel.
We are not just Black History.
We are not just contribution to a society who only contributes to our downfalls.
We are not just African-American history.
We are your history.
We are your elders.
So respect us.
