When my brothers try to draw a circle to exclude me, I shall draw a larger circle to include them. Where they speak out for the privileges of a puny group, I shall shout for the rights of all mankind.
Pauli Murray
I wrote for the first time this weekend. I took a break from working on an assignment I procrastinated on to watch a documentary on Zora Neale Hurston. I found myself crying and angry and proud the majority of the film. She was so proud to be Black, and our collective action or collective status at the time literally killed her. I also watched Giving Voice on the August Wilson Monologue Competition and learned so much about the power behind his plays. I was overwhelmed because my paper was on white comfort and how it’s denying all people freedom through education. Imagine if I would’ve learned about the STORY/LIFE of Zora as a child? The different books I would’ve read and the different road I may have walked.
I posted the poem that I wrote about Zora on Instagram and one Queen commented that “we are our own worst enemy” and I felt it in my core. I, myself, set myself up to fail with procrastinating on this paper. I knew it would be triggering and remind me of being in the classroom and the harm even I perpetuated. Instead of using my practices I’ve stacked up on in the last year full of pandemic, I actively avoided creating in any form. Whenever I would even think about it I would freak out and work myself up to where I couldn’t be productive for more than 20 minutes OR I would long naps and just not have the time literally to work on it. This doubt and waste of time hinders my creative process so much and causes way more stress than is necessary. Failing will not kill me, and that’s the worst that could happen. I mean, I honestly don’t see myself allowing myself to straight-up fail. It just wouldn’t happen. So this massive productivity killer is my own doing and requires me to get out of my own way to succeed.
BUT that’s not why it hit so hard. My poem, titled Did We Kill Zora?, was about the role of Black people in her death. Black life, and what’s now become a culture, is literally killing us. We are dying from stress-related causes and violence more than any other race. Now, we all know the way America was set up was nothing but a setup, but we’ve begun to believe the hype so much we’ve become our own worse enemy. Even in Brown v. Board, which Zora actively protested against through her final writing, the NAACP lawyers were doing what they thought was best by pushing for integration instead of demanding equal treatment of all schools, regardless of the race of the students. As schools are still segregated, all the noise brought very minor changes which allowed for us to experience new things for sure. My biggest issue is that we’ve sold assimilation as the key to success. Unlike Zora, who loved everything about Black folks, we think that becoming more proper and aligned with White culture will save us. These respectability politics are contributing to the stress that is literally killing us and until we accept ourselves as we are and love ourselves as we are we will always be our own worst enemy.
Check out my 2 newest poems below and let me know what you think. Stay safe and masked up family. All the gratitude for your support along my journey.
B ❤🖤💚✊🏾
Behind the Mask
Does my mama really know?
Does she really see?
I hide my truths deep down inside
Away from the world and me
I wear a mask
Everyday
Everywhere
Almost all the time
I’d never say it
Or write it
Or think it too long
It’s easy really
Cuz everyone’s so busy
Or in their phones
Or dealing with their own shit
Cuz I see it
She’s tired
And busy
And worried
And she barely eats
Or rests
So she couldn’t real know
And I don’t blame her
I love her
For making sure I don’t have to worry
Too much
And my dad?
Does he reaaaally know?
I mean we talk more
Because he’s not here to see
But he listens
And tries to understand
And sometimes he does
But does he reaaaally see?
I mean my mask is perfected
You wouldn’t even question
Better than Denzel
Viola
Halle
Shit
I trick myself half the time
No one really knows inside im crying.