I’m here to speak truth.
I’m here to speak truth.
I’m here to speak truth.
Truth in the light of histories textbooks. That deny my heritage.
Truth in the light of men’s ignorance. Whom infringe upon the rights of those who’re indigenous.
Truth in the light of broken dreams. As they carried us in chains across the eastern seas
I wrote this to speak truth into the misguided, mismatched, misinterpreted, misread and misrepresented flukes they disguise as the truth of what they truly think I am.
To them I am
A “dolla dolla bill y’all”, a “Get money, spend money, f*** b words”. Another sound cloud rapper they can twiddle to with their screen tapping thumbs, not understanding I did it to promote my people and their message of struggle and pain.
Then claiming to love my “culture” and wear their hair in my fashion because they think it’s “high” fashion.
I am here to speak the truth
You CANNOT say the N-word if you haven’t been called it before.
To them I am
Those pair of nikes. The ones you cop cuz everybody thinks I play basketball and is good at sports.
To them I am the stereotype
breakdancing, rap loving, watermelon eating, unaware, ignorant beast of a man, who in the truth of it all is just trying to live his life like every human being.
I’m here to speak truth.
I get followed in stores. Not because the manager finds me so likeable he needs to be near me, but because of his racial bias he thinks I can’t and won’t buy that sweater on rack 15 at Forever 21.
I’m here to speak truth.
I am the constant criticism of rebellion. The moment I ask for my rights to be given freely and I say “Black Lives Matter”, they still devalue and desensitize. All because they’re afraid of what’s before their eyes. A revolution.
I’m here to speak truth.
They think just because of my skin tone, I should be in a different zone. They think I shouldn’t be here. “Go back to Africa”, they say. “We don’t like you’re kind”. “It’d be best if you didn’t speak your mind”.
When I hear someone say go back to Africa, or that they don’t need black people and say Blacks aren’t American.
Don’t tell me to go home because I will not stay where I’m not wanted . But it makes you think because they wanted us so bad they had to have a nation so in a sense they must’ve wanted us pretty bad? Now I don’t mean that in a good way. We didn’t ask to be here. On the Ivory coast home to the mother shore. Taken from our homes and land. Kicked and pushed. Grasping for return as we were dragged across the damp African sand. We rocked back and forth in a strange and alien place where we were corralled on ships like cattle. The restless waves as they rolled and battled. Mothers, fathers, sons and daughters. Taken from our homes. As some were drowned in water.
Wail and wail in the enduring spirit men and women dreaded to hear it.
I’m here to speak the truth.
We came to a nation that wanted us only to build it for them.
I’m here to speak the truth.
Built on the backs of slaves, the nation of so called freedom.
I’m here to speak the truth.
Forced to believe in a higher power and made to forget our history. How can I believe in a god of the men that denounced my god telling me my God is now their God all whilst wanting me to believe they are God…. it makes you think.
I’m here to speak the truth.
Years of struggle bred resilience to pain. As we learned there didn’t need to be any shame of our pigment, and that it was better to live in it.
I’m here to speak the truth.
They tried to silence us by killing our leaders.
Malcolm X Martin Luther King. On those sad days did we truly sing. In the name of freedom sad songs that defined our people. I sing of the southern fields and slave ships that make me think of the sweet by and by. How I would always cry. Seeing Grammy Nellie tell me of her days in the south. Talking about the day she met Mamie Till and The way Emmett looked without a mouth.
Evil intentions for but a boy. All he had in his heart was joy. Where the days where hot in the endless sun singing spiritual songs of freedom. Some Glad morning when this life is over I’ll fly away… Like those black bodies swinging in the southern trees they too will fly away with the winds of change, all in the name of liberation.
I’m here to speak the truth.
Were so close and yet so far, So that’s why we must fight.
I’m here to speak the truth
You’re right, Black people aren’t Americans.
We Are America.
The fruition of strange fruit bred from beautiful seeds that blossom in grow in the harshest of places and spaces. Beautiful Black People who embody the essence of the American dream of progress, ambition and hard work that we made. We are the leaders who’ve climbed ladders and mountains to gain the truth of our struggle. Pioneers of this land. We the people have the right to have rights.
I’m here to speak the truth.
You didn’t make America Great.
We made it for you.
We made it for you.
We made it.
MEJ 