Connecting to My Past

I used to wonder about my ancestors,
Felt so out of touch with where I came from.
Didn't know names or faces,
Couldn't fathom these far off places...

Reading these white-washed textbooks,
Got me wondering about this melanin deficiency
Is it Rape, or some type of Pocahontas idiocracy?
Another missing connection I'll never understand.

400 years, 200 years, 50 years...
A change we can believe in?
But when I turn on the news
Its all still there: every tear, every view.

Face down in the cement—
Move to the other side.
Keep your mouth closed;
Look at the ground...
Are you gonna die like a man,
Or die like a slave?

I used to wonder...
What they looked like, how they felt
How they'd made it
With the crappy hand they were dealt...

Then I looked in the mirror,
I looked on the TV,
And I saw them
Inside and around me.

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