The color of my skin, the pigment that my soul lies in,

Should not determine whether or not I “lose” or I “win”.

The amount of melanin I have should not equate,

To determining the outcome of my fate.

In history’s past, my people have struggled and cried,

As their limbs were bound and tied,

And their culture had died.

They were forced to work hard and were never honored for all that they gave,

Their names were replaced with a new term that was: a “slave”.

Worked, strained, beaten and whipped,

Dignity became scarce, for from them, it was stripped.

245 years was the marker,

For slavery’s existence,

All because my people were darker.

In history’s past, my people struggled and cried,

As their limbs were still bound and tied,

And their culture had died.

For they now had their “freedom” and could attempt to regain some pride,

But the nation was still under a cultural divide.

“Whites only”, “Colored only”

You’d think it wouldn’t matter,

But if these signs were not followed

The nation’s fragile “peace” would shatter.

My people were constantly separated,

Always had to wait or sit in the back,

And the only excuse for these circumstances

Was the fact that their skin was black.

They had to say “no” to unfairness,

And for equality, they had to dream

But why were the things that were automatically handed to others

The same things they had to fight to redeem?

There were many signs that had to be held

And many marches that had to be led,

All because equality was never something

That my people were ever fed.

Can you blame us for being hungry?

For craving such a savory thing as being treated fair?

Sometimes I still wonder if being “treated fair”

Should mean being treated with justice,

Or being treated just like those who have lighter skin to wear…

(Why does that seem to mistakenly be the same thing?)

*sips tea*

In today’s history, my people still struggle and cry,

As our limbs are still bound and tied,

And our culture has died.

For now, if we do anything, harmless or not,

And with the eyes of our “protectors”, we get caught

And if these specific protectors are not like the rest of the lot,

And our history, they’ve been taught

But they still haven’t got

And if our skin color causes them to see us as fraught,

Then we get shot.

Why is it that I feel as though I can’t walk home with a friend,

Because depending on who sees me,

My life could end?

Or that I feel as though I can’t wear a jacket with a hood,

Because then someone may assume that my intentions are not good?

Or that despite me being a decent driver, I still constantly look over my shoulder

Because I live with a fear of being pulled over?

These fears aren’t solely based on walks or hoodies or cars that I’m in.

It all comes back to the color of my skin.

I’m not writing this poem to tell people I am “woke”

Or to gather people, so that angry rallies I can provoke

Or to bash other races and speak about how much I hate the “po-po” and “white folk”.

Because I’m not “woke”, I don’t want to make people angrier than they already are, and I don’t hate anyone.

I am not “woke”, just because I’m aware

Of my people being treated in a nature that is not fair.

I’m awake, because although this injustice is something that I clearly see,

I am also aware that my people can be filled with hypocrisy.

Equality was what we wanted; to live in a nation that was unified.

So why is it that in 2016,

Some of us want there to still be a divide,

And for us to choose a side?

I understand that our past was not pretty.

I understand that it still hurts.

But nothing can come from us

Separating ourselves [from those with different colored skin] first.

It’s okay to be weary, and it’s okay to live with some caution,

But if we’re too quick to make assumptions,

The only thing we’ll gain is added exhaustion.

And if we don’t like being prejudged on the basis of our color,

Is it really fair, despite all of our history, for us to do that to another?

I know that it can be scary.

Especially with everything that is still going on.

And it can be intimidating and sad,

When we are constantly seeing lives of our people become suddenly gone,

And it can be really frustrating,

When it feels like our race is being treated like a pawn,

And it’s hard to be optimistic

When there’s so much to dwell on,

And it seems like all hope

Is already foregone.

But just hang on.

I don’t want to make anyone angry with my words,

For this pot has been overflowing for years,

And does not need to be stirred.

I do not want to spark a riot,

But I also do not want to remain quiet.

I think there is a way to express distaste,

Without letting the true meaning behind your feelings go to waste.

So I will not express anger, or try to rile up anyone else to break,

Because how in the world is being angry going to help?

All it does is prolong our ache.

I also said that I don’t hate the police or white people, and that’s true.

Because it’s not like every single police officer or white person hates a darker hue.

There are police officers and white people, who are racist,

Who go out of their way to judge and hurt people like myself,

Who take advantage of their place in society,

And ruin it for everybody else.

But just because these people are ignorant (in both senses)

And can’t see past outward colors,

Doesn’t mean that I can rightly take their actions,

And assume it’s universal for all the others.

Again, I get it.

It’s easier said than done.

Sometimes I get nervous too,

If I pass a police officer who may very likely be armed with a gun,

Because I don’t know who they are or what they may assume,

Or if my mere existence around them might be enough for them to lead me to my doom.

But that’s why assumptions are the only thing I can say that I hate,

Not people, just assumptions,

Because they are what prevent our nation from being great.

(Speaking of which, I still do not understand howTrump can make this country great again when we haven’t ever really reached great to begin with, not with all of these race-struggles going on, but…)

*sips tea again*

My point here is this:

We struggle and cry, with our limbs bound and tied,

But we still have a chance.

Our culture is something that we, as a whole society, can revive.

If we acknowledge that there has been disrespect and neglect,

If we take all of our anger and redirect,

If we more thoroughly inspect and collect information before we suspect,

If we use our intellect, and forget the bias we deflect,

If we stop the violence and instead project dialect,

If we object to anyone who chooses to reject the notion of respect,

And let those people know, peacefully, that their ideas are not correct,

If we all, despite the difference in our skin color, come together and connect,

Then our culture is something we can resurrect.

The color of our skin, the pigment that our souls lie in,

Should all be appreciated.

There should be no loss; everyone should win.

Melanin should never equate,

To determining the outcome of our fate.

For if we continue to debate,

On which is better, more deserving and great,

Or continue to take on so much weight,

Due to the events, as of late,

And decide it may be best to separate,

The only thing we’ll ever reach is a stalemate.

So what outcome will you choose to create?

-Kerry Ingram