I wrote this years ago, long before I began to call myself a writer. I personally think it could be better with some editing. But it will remain as is, evidence of my growth as a writer.
Did they break you?
Your pride, your stand, your beauty. Are they in pieces?
Our ancestors living in peace were invaded, beaten and kidnapped. Forced to go on foreign ships for labour. Mandated to walk naked, barefooted and in chains without a crime.
They were taken to strange countries as ‘indentured servants’ to do the works they considered filthy. Speaking was prohibited, smiling an even greater offense.
Bought and sold like objects in the market.
Our people were given marks and incisions, their initials were inscribed on them to prove ownership.
Africans were compelled to drop their ways of lifeand were made to adopt theirs, telling them ‘this ishow to do it right‘
Scared of our speed of reproduction many were castrated. For they feared the strength in our number. Those people tried to break us and keep us under control. They saw our strength even though we don’t see it ourselves.
The big question is ‘Did they succeed? ‘ ‘Are we really broken? ‘
Grace was the manner in which we carried ourselves, fully covered and elegant.
Youths draw pride from walking naked. They showcase marks and incisions and call them tattoos.
Bob Marley once said, ‘None but ourselves can free our minds‘.
We may not have realized it yet but our minds are in shackles. Our bodies may be free but we are still walking in a line with rusted chains on our feet following the call of the slavemaster.
We are black people. We are royalty. We are bold and we cannot be overshadowed. In what century are we going to realize this?
For how long are we going to allow their white corrupt our black?
We are beautiful black people taking over and owning our neighborhood.