Things you Tell Me



This work is dedicated to the men and women who have fought and fallen, and continue to fight and fall.

Tell me you’re colorblind.
Because you’d rather give yourself a disability
Than acknowledge my humanity.
Call me African American.
Because you can’t say “Black”, that’s too heavy a word to use!
But the weight of your white hood gives your the strength to choose
The mispronounced Spanish word meaning the same
Then you won’t have to remember I have a face or a name.
Tell me I’m inner city garbage.
I deserve the violence, really
For being what I am, surviving how I can on the poverty you give me.
Tell me I’m too violent.
I bring my troubles to your home.
You shield your children’s eyes from me, but not their ears from your hate.
Strip me down to my aggression, so they’ll never want to relate.
Tell me to calm down.
But You just want me to just go away
I’m too divisive, you say
While I bleed on the streets in crisis.
I’m living in yesterday, because I’m not on a plantation
But my back still carries the weight and the scars of the nation.
And I can’t see the horizon promised me
For the long shadow of slavery.
Call me exotic.
Make me your conquest, your secret, your fetish
Gaze on me, with lustful eyes
You’ll gut my brother with your left hand
And slip the right between my thighs.
You’ll display my body, study it for science and research
I’ll give every cell, every scream of pain
Every tear and every fear taken
For you and your family’s health and gain.
Treatment given in tenderness and ingenuity.
luxuries I won’t live to see,
Because all lives matter, you keep telling me.
So for you, I sacrificed my autonomy and dignity.
I’m ghetto
I’m guilty
I’m a Savage, uncivilized brute
I’m slutty
I’m ignorant
And I need your chains and your noose
To keep you safe from me
Because you fear what will happen to you
Once I stop listening to what you tell me.
You fear what I’ll do to you once I am finally

M. McDade – Allen

photo source

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