Hello All! In honor of the last week of Black History Month, I would like to share a poem or spoken word piece I wrote a while back about some of the things I’ve either experienced 1st hand as a Black woman, or things I’ve read about or watched second hand through news outlets and social media. One day, this poem will only be a representation of the past and not the present. Until then, I hope you enjoy my heart put into words. Don’t hesitate to share your thoughts in the comments, but no hate please, Thanks *hugs*
You know what?
I’m so tired
I’m tired of pledging alleigance to a country that won’t respect me, let alone protect me. Because me being anything more than three-fifths of a person is silly, right?
And I’m tired of being provoked to the point of irrationality, then being called an animal and told “go back to your country”.
You go first! Because I’m pretty sure the owners want their land back.
I’m tired of hearing that black privilege is annoying and white privilege is myth because everyone wants to be black until they really get a wiff what it’s like to really be black.
And what I’m really tired of is generations and generations of “progress” because we’re still in slavery, they just have new tricks
Tired of subconsciously trying to show others that we’re not dangerous
And we really are smart
and we work real hard and
we pay our taxes just like you
I’m tired of seeing “divide and conquer” bear fruit.
I’m tired of finding so much inspiration for this poem
Tired of feeling like I’m the only one living an I have a dream speech
It’s not by MLK, but imma say it anyway.
I have a dream that one day my blackness won’t offend you.
I have a dream that the hair i was born with won’t be so strange.
My facial features won’t be so strange
That me talking like this won’t be so strange
My drive to obtain knowledge won’t be so strange.
That my beauty won’t be contingent on the size of my backside. Or how light my skin is
I have a dream that black lives will be more popular than black culture.
Be worth more than black culture
No more vultures swooping into the black community taking what suits them
What will make money for them
And then leaving the neighborhood
With the bones picked clean.
You see, I have this dream of living to see another day.
But the sad part is I don’t know if it’ll come with true because I’ll either be slaughtered in the street for the color of my skin, or who i believe in, or both.
Or because my attitude wasn’t conducive to a cop on a power trip.
You see, cops aren’t the enemy. Their egos are.
And even though I dream of a day that things won’t be the way they are,
My dreams can go but so far when they are trapped by a ceiling that is perpetually set so low.
I mean why dream when every time someone puts a dint into ignorance, they end up with a hole in their chest. You already know the rest.
But you know what? I’ll take that risk
I’ll bear that responsibility
So until everyone gets that the answer is love
Until everyone gets that the answer is God
I dare to get mad at the way things are
I dare to settle for nothing
I dare to make you feel uncomfortable
I dare to bust through that ceiling fighting for what’s mine.
I will live and not die
In spite of ignorance and stereotypes
I will break generational curses and
I will do what my grandparents couldn’t
I will fight tooth and nail
For all who were beaten
For all who were burned
For all who were hung
For all who marched
For all who stayed in their seat
For all who voted