Yesterday I cried I spoke to some people about what it's like to be black Most of them weren't the same colour as me They didn't see me I don't know what they saw But they didn't see me I wanted to help them See that my colour is an essential part of who I am And what makes me, me If they don't see colour Then, they don't see me
Being black is core to who I am And what I am Like being a woman Like being a mother Like being a wife Like being a sister They're all part of my identity I don't wear labels with 'wife' or 'mother' around my neck But I wear my colour I walk around in my skin It's part of me It's who I am
Yesterday I cried I cried for every racist name I'd ever been called I cried for my dad being a 'black bastard' I cried for my aunt being 'Kunte Kinte' I cried for my brother being a 'nigger' I cried for my parents sharing a house With what seemed like a million other people And warming themselves on an old paraffin heater (They were the lucky ones) I cried for my uncle being told, 'No vacancies here' I cried for every black boy and black girl in school Left unchallenged and not confronted for poor behaviour I cried for every black child who begins with such promise And ends up a 'failure' according to the system I cried for every black child who is demeaned, put down and humiliated For every black child who is ignored I cried for every ancestor who was Kidnapped Raped Enslaved Tortured Beaten Murdered Cheated
I cried for my son not wanting to be black anymore Because black people don't get good jobs and Because he was tired of being called 'poo face' I cried for my children I really cried for my children I cried for my daughter calling herself brown And my son telling her she's black I cried for so little changing over so much time I cried for every little box that ever needed to be ticked So I can be an ethnic group And be assured that services are fair and free from discrimination I cried for any person that can't or won't see colour I cried
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