Don't Call Me Jalen

Don’t Call Me Jalen


For an eternity I battle myself.
Who should you be today Alex?
The quick and clever Alex?

People pleaser Alex?

Self-suppressor Alex?
I can’t seem to find the house nigga Alex?
Maybe I misplaced the uncle ruckus Alex too.


I don’t ever remember being taught

to be something I’m not.
I don’t ever remember learning

to serve anyone besides myself or family.
I don’t ever remember hating myself 

to an extant of hatred for others.
I don’t ever remember!

Being ashamed of who I am and how I got there.

I don’t ever remember

having anyone.
One person just like me.
One person who ages gracefully.

What I remember, is.
“Be a leader not a follower.”
What I remember, is.
“Do your homework”
What I remember, is.
Those syrup sandwiches,
Those slurs headed straight for my mother.

10 years of my life!
You see I too

was discriminated against.
You see I too

have experience with this shit!

10 years of,
“Who is she your niece?”
“Doesn’t matter they’re all related somehow.”
10 years of,
“Honey don’t scoot too close they’re not too clean”
10 years was a life not lived but spectated.
No amount of money

could pay for the equipment I needed.


Shoved aside by even more minorities

than a majority could ever want.
I was never good enough, for anyone.
I was never good enough, for the adolescents 

who looked just like me.
I was never good enough,

for the teachers who ignored me.
I am never going to be enough, 
Why start now?


Just because my address

has never been with In harm’s way,
You think I don’t understand. 
You think I don’t understand

because my father stuck around. 
You think I don’t understand

because my family is broken. 
You think I don’t understand

because the highlands and Bardstown bustle

have not giving me physical, 
but mental muscle. 
You think I don’t know what it’s like

to lose someone at the fire of a gun.

You think I don’t understand

because that built Ford tough

man and lunch lady forged a real radical. 
Not in the world that’s political but just in general.


No you don’t understand!
You don’t understand

what it really means to be a house nigga!
You don’t understand!
What it is like to mine your own gold,
Bake your own bricks,
Solve a puzzle you created alone!
You don’t know what it’s like,
What it is to be a me only a we.

How to fend for yourself? 
You have no idea!
You only hear to prove your superior,
Because why listen

when everyone else is inferior?
You have no faith.
You hate and spread hate.
All because one man and a multitude if media’s,

you feel the need to revolt.


For the record untitled doc.
I love myself!
I love my culture!
I love my races! Yes plural!
African American! Hawaiian! Native American!
I am IN-FA-TU-AT-ED at the idea that I even exist!

Now if these qualities

are now sudden qualifications
On your list of things

that make someone an Uncle Ruckus

or a house nigga,
Than you my nigga have more of a slave mindset

than the next nigga in the west end.


-Alex Edison

This poem is about: 



Hope for the best regarding the scholarship, thank you.

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