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
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