Black Ourstory
Happy Privilege Check Month
to all my white counterparts who have to prove how “woke”
they are or how not racist 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 lynched,
white lips that spat hatred against the
darkness of my skin that enveloped me more
comfortably than white sheets,
and white privilege so ingrained in the American DNA,
it makes the HIV epidemic look like a flu season.
Happy Forgotten Ancestry Month
to all of my ancestors whom I was snipped from their
ethnic umbilical cord of the womb.
But don’t you worry!
For five payments of $29.99,
you too can find out and understand your stolen identity from
the Swipers always swiping.
Happy Give Us Our Damn Reparations Month
to all the black mothers who pray to their
deities and cover their children in spells to
block the chance of their children’s names being
dedicated to #BlackLivesMatter by blue bullets and heavy knees.
Fathers sitting in prison watching their 50 years of dime bag on a street corner,
turn into cooking shows, luxury farms, and stock investments with free consequences.
Daughters being told that their hair, body, and personalities must represent white,
because in the American dream that is the only thing that seems right.
White right, Right white, 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 white reader who comes across this
poem writhing in anxiety.
For this is not a “I Hate White People Piece”,
this is a “I Hate When There Is No White Accountability Piece”
for every white person that always wanna be us until it's time to be us.
For every white person that wanna walk like us but not walk with us.
For every white person that wanna be down ass nigga
till the day the system puts you down as a nigga.
For every white person that wanna swing with the blues
until the lynch ropes hung like strange fruit swings you blue.
For this is a piece for the white moderate that thinks being black
is just dark tans and rap songs till they realize those tan lines are bruises
their ancestors would never muster under the sun hidden by floating cotton
and these lyrics are spirituals that their afterlife could never pray of.
Happy Patriots Resilience Month
to every black person who has defied the odds with their movements,
Defied gravity with their hair,
and has used the statement, “because you’re black” as a motivator instead of a deteriorate.
Happy Marvel At Us Month
to all the T’Challas, and Okoyes, and Mbakus who wear their
Wakandan crowns with pride in their hearts.
Spoiler Alert!
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 men and women 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 the world will envy you
when they see the stars in your smile and the universe in your eyes.
Happy We Are Your History Month
for we are the living legends that they speak of after
our bodies turn to sand.
We are the inspirations that inspired empires like Rome to move mountains like feathers.
We are the dream that they couldn’t kill on the balcony of a Memphis hotel.
We are the milk and honey that flowed through the promise land.
The Promise Land that Moses didn't not live to see.
We are the living legends.
We are not just African American history.
We are not just Black history.
We are your history.
