Asked and Answered

penned February 2024.

It’s needed because our skin was once considered cursed

Because our hair offends unless straightened into submission

It’s needed because people still see our bodies

And assume the capacity of our minds

It’s needed for car doors locked and bags clutched tighter

By those who see us as a threat for breathing

It’s needed for every tear shed as this nation was built

On backs that bore whips and burdens

It’s needed for crosses burned on countless lawns

And historical retellings that reek of denial

It’s needed because respectability doesn’t save lives

And “I don’t see color” isn’t an achievement

It’s needed because academia let us in

But seldom does it say “make yourself at home.”

It’s needed for comments that approximate mockery

And celebrations misconstrued and dismantled

We need it to lament our scars and laud our successes

And we’ll need it until “why” becomes a rhetorical question.

in memory

penned Spring 2012.  (angrily) performed at a student-led rally in Harvard Square.  I said what I said, and I'd say it again.

I will never look at Skittles the same way again
The rainbow’s tasting mighty bitter at the moment
When a grown man can follow an innocent boy, 
aim a gun, fire ammo, 
and hide behind some law that gives license to kill
How can I sit there and sip iced tea like injustice doesn’t darken my door?
That could have been anyone’s suburb,
Anyone’s child walking back from the corner store
with a little something nice for his brother.
Zimmerman tracked Trayvon down,
And now there’s another one resting in the hereafter
Or maybe he’s talking to Troy Davis about what’s wrong with this nation.

And this time, there was no toy gun waved from afar
No blatant misunderstanding of motives
Just cold blood, a sidewalk
A beverage and some colorful candy--
The world’s unlikeliest weapons

And let’s not forget the police
Who took a whole month 
to think of this boy as a murder victim
To consider treating the shooter like a suspect
To acknowledge that Trayvon’s family is desperate for answers.

We all want answers.
As new pieces come together,
We look at this story in disbelief,
Asking ourselves,
Is this what it looks like to protect and serve?
Since when did my brother become a threat to my neighborhood?
Am I too dangerous to walk outside at night?

Hoodies up, hands in pockets
We stand here to mourn the loss of another life not guilty.
Rest in peace, justice for all.

on the subject of a black woman's silence

my silence is not willful apathy.
it is not the absence of rage.

it is not a lack of desire
to process,
to protest,
to educate.

it is not consent,
no inaudible whisper of
"yes" to injustice,
no hushed utterance of
"this is ok, everything is ok."

do not equate the shutting of my mouth
with the closing of my eyes and ears
to the tension so tangibly felt.

i am aware.

i know that for some,
silence is agreement
with all of the above.

not so for me.

it has become hard to believe
that the pen is mightier than anything,
that one's voice holds power.
when reality hits
and history repeats,
i feel choked and powerless.

in saying nothing,
i preserve self.
it feels like the only power i have.

parallel

the life-breath of God // the last-breath in death
rage-fueled fires tonight // Holy-Spirit Pentecost tomorrow

an agent of protest // a murder weapon
violence begets violence // sirens beget sirens
black and white thinking // protests into riots

proud to live in this skin // scared to die because of it
numbness // sadness // fear // rage

too tired to keep writing // too tired to stop