The reality of some members of my race

African American women

We depend on the government to feed, clothe, and take care of our children.

We have a baby on May 15th and become pregnant again on June 20th by the same man

That has NO job, a pot to urinate in, or a bed to sleep.

But because he whispers something sweet, or kisses us gently on the cheek

We will risk the possibility of catching an incurable disease.


Slaps, kicks, punches, and cigarette burns on our cheeks

We take from a man that can barely say his ABC’s or the simple numbers 1, 2, and 3.

We try to keep up with the Jones’ down the street

But we can barely keep a loaf of white bread, ham, let alone cheese

Or the lights on in the house so we don’t stumble at night when we are sneaking and geeking with our best friend’s fiancé, Malik.

But that’s us the African American women

who penetrate the words RESPECT and RESPONSIBILITY.

Yet we still say we are the baddest—female dogs—ever.

Very funny!

African American boys

Say they have a girlfriend

But how can Aisha be your singular “girlfriend”

When Keisha, Tameka, Shanika, and LaQuandisha

Become pregnant by you at the same time on different days, in the same week, and live on the same street.

A man, you are not.

Especially when you are working at Mickey D’s

Making around $6.20 an hour, and you

Only work 9 hours a week.

You have no room for conceit.

Please take a seat because child support

Is going to show you how less of man you are and will always be.              

As African Americans

We prove every day to the white man how foolish he expects us to be

Leaving our little children in the car to die just to go get a hit of drugs that we think is oh so sweet,


Not thinking of the heartbeat,

 The heartbeat of a beautiful baby girl, that could have made a change in this lost, twisted world.

We are killing and robbing each other

Because we are to jealous to see one of our own succeed

That’s what happened to Tupac Shakur, The Notorious B.I.G., and Doe B.


Our race is unbelievably confusing to me

We complain about what we don’t have but do nothing to earn anything.

Nothing from nothing leaves nothing

So we need to open our eyes and see the big picture that Martin Luther King Jr, intended for us to see.



This poem is about: 
Our world


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