Not Just Products; a poem for white people.

Not Just Products.

 

“Okay, please facilitate this conversation.”

My professor allowed them to just..

Lead. Privilidge.

Of course.

Where is she?

My only other

Black friend. The only other sister.

Not here, I guess.

And here we have it;

The facilitators.

One two three, all white.

Let’s discuss, class. They say.

The barbershops.

Let’s discuss, class. They say.

The culture.

Let’s discuss, class. They say.

The black people.

Definitive factors of an organization

Cloaked by the sheer reading of a story

Not written by their kind

Barbershops.

Cultural

Thrift

Stores

Of information as well as

Services.

They say.

They said.

They did.

And I, The only black, The only sister,

felt comfortable.

Here I am in class,

With too big of an ass,

With too loud of a mouth,

With too brown of skin,

Being talked about.

My people, being talked about.

But of course, as a white person,

You know all.

 

So why do I need to be part of the conversation anyway?

I could get food, maybe read a book, instead of being in class. 

I don’t need to be part of the conversation, 

considering everyone else is white, 

and they know all about us. 

 

But of course, I’m comfortable.

Hah, what’s new?

 

Let’s move on.

“Do you think it’s a race issue?”

They say.

“You can’t define a culture to one race.”

I say. Silence.

Because race isn’t an issue,

It’s the color of our skin,

The product of my kin

The way in which I live

How I shop, breathe, and give

Away my sorrows and laughs and dreams

And style to people

Who have money bursting at the seams.

 

Uncomfortable, now I am.

Not only are they speaking about me,

But I have no voice.

So I listened, and they taught.

I listened, just like k-12.

 

You don’t have the right.

I am strong, and more than just

A product.

Give back our cornrows and dreads

Give back the ones dead

Because you refused to allow

This exotic hair

This mocha chocolate skin

This prideful stride to own its culture.

You love my hairstyles,

My clothing, my dancing and my food

But you don’t love me,

I didn’t think you could.

 

Stop defining my culture

Stop defining my heritage.

Stop acting like you know,

Stop pretending you’re me.

Stop taking my culture and trending the style,

Stop

We’re not

Just a culture

We’re not just facts

We’re not just a story

We’re not just people

Cutting our hair,

Polishing our nappy minds

We’re cutting out your bullshit.

We’re bonding over culture.

We’re living and breathing,

We’re fighting the oppression

And supporting each other.
We are people, we are fighting,

We are here.

 

Not just products.

 

Featured Image: Wikimedia Commons