A. PRETTY. FIRE. POEM.
A. Pretty. Fire. Poem.
BEFORE YOU KNEW YOU WERE BLACK...
...You could do anything remember that?
Remember what life was like before all that; that that the world deemed as negative was reflected back? Before Ebonics? Before free lunch? Before finding out that you didn't talk quite white or good enough?
Remember the day you were introduced to all the isms. You know race and her homey's sex and class-ism?
Remember when the world locked you into a limiting & antiquated idea of you?
Remember when you found out you were too black? Sooooooo black you look blue or too light; sooooo light you look white?
Remember when you believed in you and your ability to do ANY thing you put yo mind to?
Remember when you found out all the things black folks just won't do; can't do, not with your black male aggression and rage or your black girl sass and attitude?
Remember when you thought your Dookie braids and kinky hair were cute and had no idea that chemical burns, creamy crack and bad weaves lay ahead of you?
Remember when you thought your coal black skin and bright red complexion was beautiful and dope and the world responded with a resounding not so much, not really; nope?
Remember when the world lay before you a multicolored prism and the world took it upon itself to inform you of the facts of life as they stood in black and white a grey scale prison?
...BUT EVEN WITH ALL THAT...
Remember how good it felt being black?
Like Missy Elliot in a hefty bag!
Super. Dooper. BLACK.
BLACK like Sportin Waves, Snap Backs and Curl Caps.
BLACK like in the summer time, when you could play outside til the street lights came on and you got BLACKER, sun rays and play, had you smelling like OUTSIDE and ALL DAY?
BLACKER like the time it takes for a sista to get cute on a Saturday night; 4 hours at the nail salon, 18 years at the beauty supply, then 9 mo hours at the beauty shop, then 17 whole days standing in lines, outside; cold as fawk, STUCK, in the cutest, least comfortable shoes you could find?
Like listening to House Music while eating Harold's Chicken wings fried hard in mild sauce on the west side.
Like New Orleans in the key of Big Freedia biggity bouncin down Bourbon street.
Like Debbie's momma from Friday because according to Smokey she was BLACKER than a mutha fugga too.
BIGGER & BLACKER
Like kinks and coils meticulously styled.
Like scrunch waves, pump waves, finger waves, locs & braids.
Like a room full of beautiful nappy ass heads.
BLACKER like the back of Forrest Whitaker's neck.
Like RUN DMC
You ain't gotta understand us but give us respect.
Like break beats and Adidas track suits. BLACKER like 6 steps, b-boy's, b-girls and hood DJ's, microphone check; one, two, one-two.Let it BURN, Let it BURN. When the roof is on fire BLACK folks know EXACTLY what to do.
BLACKER like Bru-man from the 5th floor stealing 'sammi-chis' from Martin in 1994.
LORD like the day James Evans died.
Or that time Janet Jackson got burned with that iron on Good Times.
Damn. Damn. Damn. Oh NO Momma NOOoo. PLEASE!!
Honey I cried, you cried, We ALL CRIED
Like life meticulously sorted in navy and gold Crown Royal Bags
Like Flavor Flav plus Chuck D. Not Flav In Love but Flav in P.E....dear brothers and sisters.
We - Gotta - Fight - The - Powers - That - Be.
It's gone be Wakanda Forever round these parts baby.
BIGGER and BLACKER
Like The Panther in 1963 and 2018!!
Say it Loud I'm BLACK and Proud.
BLACK with purpose with OUT apologetically.