You might be an *******
if you break up with a
woman and then get your
friends to spread vile stories
about her instead of being a
stand up, guy.

You might be an ******* if
you like putting people down
in order to make yourself feel
good instead of confronting
your insecurities and dealing
with them.

You might be an ******* if
you like to touch women
whenever you want and brag
about it instead of not putting
your hand's on women and
treating them like human beings.

From the pulpit to the office,
the classroom, to the gym.
******* are everywhere
And when you die, people
always remember whether
or not you were an *******.

The voices are gone
the doubt, the fear,
the shame, the hatred
all that is left..is me
the silence has begun

I sit here, alone in a
crowd, fighting the urge
to scream. My fight has
just begun, my misery
ready to pounce but
I am ready.

Day after day I fight
to keep my sanity
and hold on to who
I am. And day after
day my demons fall.

Slowly the sensations
dim, the battle is coming
to a close, the war will
go on but this time there
is hope that healing can
begin.

I see the path ahead of
me, it’s a path of love,
wisdom and an understanding
of ones self. Theone'sence
has ended and my voice is
ready.

Let’s talk, I know you
feel the need to speak
your mind. That you
need to get your hair and
nails done. Even if it
means putting others
at risk.

I know you feel that
you’re entitled to call
the police because a little
girl is selling water
or because of a family is
having a BBQ. The fact
that they are black has
nothing to do with it.

I know you feel that
because you love God
and go to church every
week gives you the right
to tell other women what
they can and can’t do
with their bodies.

I know you think the
world revolves around you,
that it’s okay to carry
signs with **** slogans
but you’re not racist
because you have
Jewish friends.

I know you think it’s
okay to forgive a man
with multiple **** allegations
who lies constantly
because he’s white, rich
and the president.

I know you find it
hard to believe that a
black woman could
be a student at Yale
or a doctor or a
district attorney or
a human being.

I know that you feel
being called Karen is
some form of racial
slur, that you feel
oppressed even bullied.
That you don’t understand
why everything is not
about you.

Well, Karen, it was never
about you, so go back to
your empty conversations,
your bubbles of white
privilege and your cottages
on the lake and let the real
world alone, we are much
better off without your fake.

It’s all about you, you’re
the guy who found religion
the one who tells everyone what they
should think but screams victim
when challenged.

You ***** a woman behind
a bar and get more sympathy
than the woman you violated.
Judges will protect you, give
you a lighter sentence for
your “5 minutes of action.”

You drive drunk killing four
people but you serve no
time because of who your
daddy is. You get a suspended
sentence.

You shot a black man for
Knocking on your door. You
Shot Colton and ***** Tina
but it’s okay, they weren’t
The white color anyway.

You drive a van into a crowd
because a woman won’t sleep
with you. They won’t call you terrorist
because that term is only for
those who are brown.

You shoot a man sitting in his backyard
22 times for holding a cell phone
and then take a mass shooter to
burger king before taking him to jail.

You walk around with tiki
torches, dressed as prep school
boys armed to the teeth. You drive
a car into a crowd killing a woman
but there are “good people on both
sides”

Taking responsibility has been replaced
by hypocrisy, understanding by ignorance,
the right thing by the right wing
But none of that matters when you’re
Not the White Color

I sit there watching,
as the last minutes
of your life reveal to me
the path you have taken.

I hear your cries as you
wake in an abandoned
world....alone. Taking
your first steps with the
help of no one.

You’re left with those
nobody wants and yet you
find your voice, you find
your soul, you find your strength.

I watch as you grow into yourself
into your person. I watch as the world
takes advantage of you in
unspeakable ways but never
breaks you.

I watch you carry your first child
and then your second. You teach
us to live, to love who we become.
Your touch creates beauty everywhere
you go.

Your spirit is strong even though
your body is not. I watch you struggle,
unable to help but you tell me not
to worry.

I watch you fall, trapped between this
world and the next I am reminded that
all paths must end. As you expel your
last breath I see your spirit escape to
freedom.

I smile as the tears roll down my face
for I now know that your path has not
ended but continues.....in the hearts of
those your beauty touched and the
lives you changed.

I dreamt about you last night
first time in 6 years but it felt like yesterday
A spring afternoon with the sun on our faces
the first time I said I love you

You pulled me up from the depths of hell
and locked up all the demons
You made the bad dreams go away and
for the first time taught me to live

You had my heart the first time I saw you
you sauntered in and made yourself at home
you put a smile on my face
whenever you walked into a room

Your smile burned so bright, it was enough
to make me weak in the knees
Your love was even stronger but
it was your humanity that made you perfect

I dreamt about you last night
first time in 6 years but it felt like yesterday
You’re gone now but that’s okay for
the lessons you taught me are still here
and because of that I still love me

You’re the face of the angry parent, cutting me down with your words.
The face of the bullies waiting in the school yard to share their insecurities with me.

You’re the face of the neighbor, the best friend, the preacher, the teacher, the face of the men who ***** me.

You’re the face of the police officer, the judge, the politician. Those who would rather blame the victim than deal with violence so many of us face on a daily basis.

You’re the face of the vanishing lover and the absentee father, your the face in the bathroom mirror that I can’t wipe away.

You’re the faces that I carry with me everyday. You remind me that I’m still here, that you did not break me. The face that I wear may be cracked and worn but it is one of dignity, strength and defiance.

The face is me