“Why all her poems about black people & their ‘issues’? She feeds into the stereotypical ‘angry black woman.’ She mad at the world cause another black boy was shot by a police officer. Girl, get over that! He dead & ain’t nothing we can do about it. People die everyday & he just happened to be one of them.”
Says the white girl that faithfully reads my poems. Oh, but she’ll will never understand.
“Breaking news, a black boy by the name of Trayvon Martin was killed in Sanford, Florida this evening.”
“Breaking news, a black man by the name of Philando Castile was shot and killed last night.”
“Breaking news, a black boy by the name of Cameron Brockington was beaten by police officers for “looking suspicious.”
Breaking News . . .
Just kill me too!
Pull me over, shoot me dead.
You do it too, everybody else.
I have to hold my breath, because if I breathe wrong
I’m gone.
I can’t live cause I’ll die.
If I paint the world black & white
I’d only be a shade
But would you still kill me then
Cause I’m just shades darker than
you?
My ebony skin can’t flourish cause it’s bruised by world.
My heart aches for the mother that I’ll someday be.
“Beware of your surroundings. Do as they say so you can come back home to me, son.
Comply, comply, comply.
Don’t run, cause they’ll shoot.
I want you here with me.”
I see myself screaming, “Please don’t kill my son!”
Trying to protect him from this world that doesn’t want him to exist.
So!
I’ll finish another one of these black poems so I can start the others.
I will not apologize for being the angry black woman I have every right be.
You are right! I’m mad, angry at the world for everything it has become.
Thing is, I can do nothing but sit and write poems about how beautiful my black is and how sad it is when the world takes it away.
But I will apologize on your behalf.
I’m sorry you feel the need to place stereotypes on our black boys,
that you see nothing more than a nigga in them.
I’m sorry that you hate black people so much that you feel the need to kill.
I’m sorry I’m black & I can do nothing about it but embrace it.
I’m sorry, but you’re the issue, not me.