The Way I Wear My Slave Hair

    The ability to reduce your own genetics
    To words and phrases someone else created,
    And devour your own culture
    With the fuel and ammunition of someone else's hatred--
         How did we fall so far in our purpose?
    We let the world embody badness in our image,
    Allowed ourselves to be brainwashed
    That we turn away from our own reflection and grimace...
    We assign attributes to our natural features
    Let the world paint it as the poster child for evil
    And set the course of our entire existence
    On a feature we were born with for a purpose and a reason--
    We exist in some vicious cycle,
        breeding self hatred,
    For if my hair is but a crown of unkempt shame
    Then my skin must be the mark of the devil
    Unworthy of beauty or respect or acclaim.
    We unwittingly cage ourselves in this box
    Of a description falsely forced upon us
    But accepted universally--
         this parade of caged souls
    We pace; we walk around the world in uneven ruts...
    Will we dig ourselves so deep?
    Burry our own corpses out on display,
    Make a show for the world to enjoy and criticize
    While our children sink further
         and further in our decay.
    This ability that plaques us--
    Stalks us like an epidemic wrought with frailty and death--
    Will we break free of its ungrateful shackles
    Or cultivate our own demise even in our last breath?

    Physical features such as hair should never be symbols of certain attributes. It's ridiculous to say "slave hair" just as it's ridiculous to say black skin is evil skin. [As always this is a specific example; the principle is colorless.]


    Published on Monday, April 21, 2014
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