To the White Man Who is No Longer a Part of the Conversation:

I bet it hurts you, doesn’t it?

to think that there is something

in this world which does not

revolve around you

it must shock you to think that

though the fuckery stemmed from you

you are no longer a factor in this equation

I’ve cancelled you out

smudged the edges of

my apartment and

ushered the toxicity

which is your imprint

upon my flesh

out of the building

you are hereby dismissed

do not think for one moment

I am sorry to see you go

you who have fetishized

raped and abused me

crawled between my

bones and my flesh and

leaked out your poison

What really gets me?

you’re convinced this is love

your smugness is nauseating

your certainty preposterous

yet you stay firmly planted

rooted in the rewritten history

you believe is your truth

your blindness is appalling

your presence is threatening

it is time for you

to exit the conversation.

 

Mad as Hell

Cant you see your ignorance brings pain
Over and over and over again?

Tell me, what do you get 

From being an insufferable fucking twit?
I’d smack hard upon your face

If I thought for a second it would make you change
But your ingnorance is so deeply ingrained

It’s not astounding to see you have no shame

Benefiting from bodies lain

Casually in unmarked graves
Where will you be in a hundred years

When all that remains of us are your tears

Trickling down your pale white face

As buildings burn and what’s left of your race
Are sitting on the searing coals

With nothing to eat and only each other to hold?

Solving for F

Hidden-Figures-13.jpg

My brain has been ticking for months

got me feeling like math class,

pulling my gum, twisting it around my finger

eyes fixed on the page, staring at the problem,

body cemented in angsty agony

praying for the bell to ring

so I can put it aside for another day

begging the universe for more time

to try figure out how to solve for F

Freedom or Facism

or

freedom from facism

How do I balance the equation?

Got me like Taraji in Hidden Figures

up on that ladder

skirt leaning while I sway

I need me a computer

in the form of all those brilliant

rad and mad woc who got us to space

I need to accept that computer is the way to soar

Yeah, I think that is a metaphor

We’ve got to teach us how

to break these chains and fly

We be how we solve for F

Computing, how to Fuck this Shit all the way Up.

Fury

I exploded today.

My voice rang out loud and clear

& booming.

I had forgotten about my temper.

Had forgotten how quickly fury

can wash over and consume me

It filled the room

found it’s target,

surrounded and extinguished it.

My fury commanded silence and

it was obeyed.

 

It lingers,

I have found.

Hangs around me like smoke,

dissipating. Slowly.

It chokes me. Like poison

it sputters from my mouth

my lips.

Set off by one word.

Nigger.

Poison.

There is power in words

Deep. Aged.

Setting me off

Causing me to burn hot. Fast,

like a match to straw

King

“King”

I whispered, hoping to God he couldn’t hear me

But the way he pressed his fingers into me,

I knew he had

I uttered the word like a prayer

Thanking whatever spirit rules passion

Over and over again

as I felt that spirit rise up in me

My body is a temple, he came to

Pray at my altar

I traced the lines of his body,

Devoured the color of his skin

Rich, bright, the color of mahogany

Deep, musky scent

Breathing deeply,

I took him into my lungs

Bound

My body looks wounded
Battered and bruised
You touch it, it shudders
Dark skin, dirty secrets
Written all over this flesh
Destruction seared into my bones
My soul holds truth
But I find myself bound and gagged
Unable to speak it

Dust

the thing that tugs at me from my  last relationship is not the fact that she and I didn’t work out, because, bless her. I mean, bless her. Hell in a handbasket that one, but the emphatic way in which she professed her love for me. Then just shut it off. Which if I’m honest, I shut mine off too. I tumbled head first into love, because that is actually, not a thing I do. I am meticulous and I analyze and this time I didn’t. I didn’t think, I just lept, and I’m not sorry for it, I’m not ashamed of it. What I am sorry for is that I let her speak in absolutes. I let her tell me that she would always love me. That she would love me forever. She didn’t even love me for a month. I’m smarter than that. I’m wiser than that but I let her. And here’s the thing, the whole time the smarter, wiser part of me was raging against it, part of me believed her. Part of me thought, maybe this gorgeous, lively, drunken mess will love me all the days of her life. And here’s the part I resent, pay attention: the part I resent is that I let that possibility creep in, and it didn’t work out. And now, it has fed my complex. I have an unlovability complex, you see, and she fed it. Piled it high with sticks and brush, poured gasoline on it, dropped a match and walked away as that motherfucker burned.

My mother gave me up for adoption when I was a baby. Gave me up. What the fuck kind of a phrase is that? Then, people are obsessed with adopting things, pets, railways, freeways, elephants, things. I’m lumped together with a fucking freeway and I wonder why I feel less than. Why I feel unimportant. Then I wonder why seeing people as carbon copies of those they share DNA with makes me want to grind my bones into dust.

I was given up for adoption when I was a baby. A woman who was supposed to love me forever gave me away like a pair of jeans and a girl who said she’d love me forever didn’t even stick around to watch me turn to ash.

And it’s not about her. I don’t love her. That’s not the point. The point is that I have an unlovability complex and I am ash. I am dust. And I need that fucking shit to change. The point is I share a category with a fucking freeway.

That’s the fucking point.

On being afraid

What was that you said ?
No, the thing about me
What you whispered too loudly
To your friend as I passed by
Yes, I’m sure you have seen me around
A lot. Bound to happen when I walk everywhere
No, that does not mean I am open to being harassed
Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have any cash on me
What? That makes me a Nigger?
Well, this Nigger isn’t begging you for money
No, I will not hug you,that does not make me a bitch
What? You want to rape me ?
Come say that to my face,
Does that make you feel like a man ?
Every day they come at me
It’s a wonder I step out at all.

On Acknowledging Truth

I am not as strong as I think I am
I am not as clever as I pretend to be
I use big words and grandiose statements to hide my fear
The world terrifies me
I have gotten nowhere, fast and I am afraid I will stay here
I Fuck up chances like it’s my job
And my childhood tore me down instead of building me up
I am a shell, a fraud, a coward
I never do the things I say I will
I hide from people and the world because they hurt me and attack me and judge me
I am not who I pretend to be
I can’t fake it til I make it
I am tired.
I am not as strong as I think I am.

Safe

Lately, the I have been thinking a lot about my experience and how it impacts the ways in which I walk out my days.  Common themes have arisen, such as validation, safety and acceptance.  These are things which have often been in short supply during the course of my life, primarily in my childhood, but also in later years spanning to the present.

Tonight I was in an environment which made me feel unsafe, unloved and invalidated. Growing up as a person of color in a white family having been adopted as an infant, living in a white town, housed in a white state, has instilled deep within me some fairly intense insecurities surrounding my feelings of belonging and acceptance within the black community.

I’ve been making steps toward reaching out and joining that space which I had been so long denied access to. Tonight though, I left a discussion feeling disheartened and less than. I shared my perspective, which is rooted in a white backdrop of a black experience and I felt judged. I felt my fear come to life and it really bummed me out.

Some of the white people heard me and validated me, but by the people of color in the room, I felt that I was greeted with a dismissive attitude and though I am not surprised, I am sad. Mine is an experience which is not unique, but it is not common and I just wish that there lived a safe space for me and those like me, to share my views without negativity.

I’d like to expand on this further, but for now, I just need to get something down so I can maybe get some sleep.