A History of Race in America
A poem birthed from anger.
Prologue:
Seems to me that the institutions that function in this country are clearly racist, and that they’re built upon racism Stokely Carmicheal
I am angry. Once I became a man and began college, my consciousness woke up. As I read and observed my surroundings, I began to see how worthless society views men and women who possess the gift of melanin.
I am a proud black man with three children and a black queen I love to the ends of the universe. However, every time I witness the death of an unarmed black man or woman, I fear for my family. Why? They could be next. Each black man and woman lynched at the hands of the police, or a white man with a gun didn’t know they would become an unlikely martyr. They were average Americans trying to carve out life like the rest of us.
I’ve been asked on several occasions why I’m angry. When asked this question, I look the person square in the eye and tell them about my experiences as a black man in America. Once I ‘m done, most shake their heads and apologize. I usually tell them no need and request of them to try and make the world better by fighting racism wherever they witness it.
I asked them to be the hero in the office that speaks up when racism infiltrates the workspace. I ask them to speak to their friends and try to slay the beast of inequality.
However, we as African Americans must continue to fight the battle our ancestors fought against racism. We can’t give up and must elect leaders who will keep their promises to Black America.
MLK said in his famous speech; we were given a bad check. He said those words over 55 years ago, and we are still waiting on it to cash out into the equality we all deserve.
I wrote the poem below in five minutes. It raw, and birthed from the fire of my anger.
Auctioned on a black devil Poked and prodded Open yo mouth nigga Let me witness what I’m buying Yet at the same time witness human degradation Pain doled out for profit Whip scarring backs Sealing our fate with our blood Watch it soak into the tasking field Growing and fertilizing wealth I don’t have heir to
Lincoln speaks over my ancestors Bites chains off my feet with one word Freedom Eloquent phrasing leads to new horrors Crackers on horseback With blood on racist lips Bullets pregnant with ugliness Ready to kill a family in the night Lynching noose ready to steal life Mutilates a God-given body Spilling precious life into the black void My existence mutilated into worthlessness
Now we fight mass incarceration Crack pipes and money encased many behind bars Life played out in a prison yard Central Park five in a five by nine Can’t hide from your skin Melanin convicted you in your momma's womb Scream I can’t breath smothering under the knee of racism Choked until death takes me My breath stolen from me in a flash Only a worthless nigga Courts pass out small retribution’s for one hundred years of pain Who I blame, the system
Answers allude as politicians posture Wringing their hands with surprise Like you didn’t know Suffering was right in your eyesight I can’t depend on you No savior in my mind Only another promise from political mouths We, Black folks, must fix our own house Or continue to die under the knees of racism and white power
Estacious (Charles White) is a twenty-three-year educator. He began writing over twenty-five years ago. His work experience encompasses managing schools and teaching a variety of subjects. His passions are poetry, short fiction, playwrighting, and nonfiction. He won one of six prizes in the Rockford play festival for his play “Incarcerated Christmas.” He is married with three children and a native of New Orleans.