In Africa is found the broken little bits of bone that tell the truth of it: We are, all us, African flown with little racial bits to call our own. Though we struggle to point our finger the little racial bits do linger in the those digits curled tight pointing back to us as if to light the way back to the truth we have lost behind us, left, to the side, tossed. We are, all of us, of one breed; black inside the womb, white as the seed. Oh we struggle, caught and trapped, by our own hand our backside slapped, as we pretend to believe the lie that divides us, you from I.
So ‘white’ I stand before you ‘black’ as any African man but take a step back for you dear son of slaves and slaver’s sons are not untouched by this and are undone to realize, that before me, looking me up and down, stands another white man with a touch of brown. Go ahead, divide us into a lie that mere color determines if we live or die
There are no ‘young black boys’ just boys waiting to fuss and bother the world as young men or a liar’s toys. The choice made, or not, by so simple a thing as a father.
And when another digger finds our bones in the sands will he nod and sagely lecture that he understands the fossilized distinction he so cleverly employs to distinguish young white from young black boys?
Javon Johnson - "cuz he's black" (NPS 2013) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Wf8y_5Yn4