A raised hand, waiting to be selected, equipped with my answer correct
My posture, correct, my attitude, correct, my demeanor, CORRECT,
But yet, she never chooses me,
Not like she blatantly refuses me,
But her selection of the unprepared, confuses me,
Me, with my pretty bookbag, my nice shoes,
My beautiful hair,
Momma has a wall full of my accolades,
but that minimum wage attention I get paid,
Only because my ancestors were of a different shade,
Never wore robes, but shackles and chains,
And amongst a crowd of white faces, considered a stain,
but please let me explain how many times ive been told our world has changed,
sure it has in some ways,
went from a burning crosses of KKK, to Rodney King beat downs,
To riots in inner city streets, German Sheppards off their leashes,
water hoses and police raids,
to slick snubs, from higher ups, we in the same classroom,
textbooks to technology, over time just look how we grew,
we love the rags to riches stories of black sisters and brothers,
activists, turn rappers, athletes and actresses,
redefining the world we once knew, no more shackles,
and tattered dress, we tailored up, from Jim Crow to J. Crew
who knew? That 2008 Obama would hit our news print,
making good on the construction of Martin Luther King's blueprint,
Now a black man is in power no panther, and we rejoice through our
education, music, art and dance to create a new movement,
so in this AP class I will sit, with my hand raised, and million dollar ideas,
that if called on will only be expressed as me offering my "two cents",
Yet realizing there is no need to take to offense,
I need not your recognition, checking my knowledge or adequacy in conversation,
For God has a higher calling for me upon my graduation...