When Black Pain Becomes Negated and Used as a Political Prop
After the killings last summer of three kops in Baton Rouge, LA, to protest the continued murdering of unarmed New Afrikans by kops, I watched the most shameful, disgusting and insulting townhall meeting by opressident Barack Obama. He was allegedly addressing the issue of state violence, racial violence, and retaliation in communities of color. Not only wasn’t the issue seriously addressed with any real analysis or depth, it was a shameful slap in the face to our community while allowing cameo shots of grieving members.
Black pain has always been both devalued and negotiable in Amerika. It can never be raw and respected. It must be contained or quantified. It must never be allowed to make the “other” feel threatened, unsafe, or uncomfortable. Historically, in this kountry, New Afrikans were never allowed to grieve, to feel, to submerge or baptise ourselves in our pain or rage.
Our ancestors, forefathers and foremothers could be lynched, burned alive at the stake in a carnival atmosphere... babies were cut from the pregnant bellies of mothers and daughters. Ni--ers were told to get back to work, back to the fields, ni--er! Even today, when killed by oppressive power in the form of kops or privileged white males who wear the camouflage of neighborhood watchmen who get away with murder in plain sight, we are pressed to forgive before we can even grieve or bury our dead. A microphone is thrust in our face and you’re expected to forgive or call for peace. You know, because we ain’t human. We are not supposed to feel. As a people, we are not supposed to feel rage or anger and if you share/ express how you really feel you’re then critiqued. Power still tell ni--gers to suck it up! Ni--er get back to work!
We are one of the only people on the planet that can be lynched or murdered in the streets by oppressive power and we are not allowed to or choose not to bring the perpetrators to justice and instead depend on others to do it for Us and We end up with “just-us” once again. Just think about it.
You hear all the time these politicians and so-called great defenders of human rights get up on the world stage and scream about bringing some adversary to justice while secretly sending drones to bomb entire neighborhoods and communities and yet...
Our throats attack chokeholds by white males in broad daylight and on video camera and yet... Our backs charge backwards into 40 caliber bullets and yet...
Our chests run towards 9 mm bullets fired by white kops while reaching into our waistband for non-existent guns and yet...
Because we love pain we repeatedly attack the electrified prongs of tasers while handcuffed behind our backs until our hearts seek out its best friend cardiac arrest and yet...
Our necks are snapped and spinal cords are broken by driverless police vans and yet...
Our children are gunned down in less than 6 seconds for playing with a toy gun in broad daylight and yet... We can be murdered by a Walmart for holding a toy and yet...
All across the kountry in jail cells we throw our necks into nooses and jump off of beds and steel toilets becoming strange fruit in concrete jungles without soil.
Say her name!!
You’re not even allowed to carry a gun legally in an open carry state nor are you allowed to have a concealed carry permit without throwing your body into an onslaught of bullets.
Why?
Because ni--er you ain’t legal in Amerika!
This is why you get no justice.
You gets no indictment.
You gets a not guilty, a dismissal of all charges or a slap on the wrist. Your murderer gets a paid vacation. Your murderer is allowed to retire with his pension. Your murderer-- if he makes it to kourt-- gets the benefit of every legal loophole known to humankind because his/ her life has value and black lives don’t matter!
While black mouth pieces, modern social firemen seeking to extinguish the righteous rage of the people call for lame Dept. of Justice investigations, why? To tell you some shit that black folks have known for 400 years!
Why?
Because, ni--er, fuck yo pain and grief!
Say you forgive, ni--er!
Say you condemn violence, ni--er!
Say you don’t want em brought to justice, ni--er! Say that your pain ain’t raw, ain’t real!
I surrender!
You can exploit my pain, you can parade me on national TV and use my pain as a prop, use my body, commodify my tears and grief for ratings and political expediency while you bloodsuck the raw resource of black bodies out of my community.
If not now, when?
Power to the People!
Written by a grandfather, father, husband, and brother.... An unapologetically angry black man. Stop killing us!