#blackhistory
WE ARE BLACK and
WE ARE PROUD
SAY IT LOUD!!!
It's BLACK HISTORY
MONTH, and
WE STAND OUR GROUND,
WE REPRESENT OUR
HERITAGE ALL AROUND,
We STAND ON BUSINESS and
YOU CAN'T BRING US DOWN!!!
BLACK HISTORY MONTH IS
A MONTH TO COMMEMORATE,
THE PAST, PRESENT, AND
FUTURE FIGURES,
THAT WE
PROUDLY CELEBRATE,
FROM THE U.S.A.,
TO OUR AFRICAN ROOTS,
BLACK ACTIVISTS, 5
OF ALL KINDS JUST
TO NAME A FEW!!!
We have CIVIL RIGHTS ACTIVIST
SOJOURNER TRUTH,
Dr. MARTIN LUTHER KING JR, and
MAYA ANGELO,
ROSA PARKS, and MALCOM X,
ALICE COLEMAN and
FREDRICK DOUGLAS,
BESSIE COLEMAN, and
CLAUDETTE COLVIN,
SHIRLEY CHISHOLM, and
BOOKER T. WASHINGTON,
IDA B. WELLS and
HARRIET TUBMAN!!!
THERE ARE MANY
OF THEM THAT
HAVE PAVED THE WAY,
THEY ARE STILL BEING
LEARNED ABOUT
THIS VERY DAY!!!
B.R.
Date: 2/16/2025
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 8:24 PM UTC
"And he created out of one man every nation of men, to dwell upon the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and set limits of the dwelling of man." (Acts 17: 26) (New World Translation Study Edition)
When I look in the mirror, a doughty warrior, an oracle, an Olympian gazes back at me. The caramel-tinge of my skin tells of the colored pedigree from whence I came. Every ebony-tendril that bursts from my epidermis is as impregnable as the Sacred Lotus.
The history of my Mind's Sky has been tried by the Ancient African Sun of my ancestors. It is my hope, that I have passed the trials decreed by the ordinances of the Moon & Sun. Moreover, the Arbiter of Fates, Jah, dawns upon our fleshly vessel at each twilight, assaying our entities. (Isaiah 60: 19, 20) (New World Translation Study Edition)
So many intrepid souls have compassed me about. The Chalice of my Heart burgeons with esprit d' amour. The meaning of life is ne' er about intellect, is ne' er about achievement, is in part, about creativity; wholly, about Love. (John 13: 34, 35) (New World Translation Study Edition) For this reason, strength cascades upon me every moment as I witness the brilliance, the resilience of my beneficent matriarch, Stacy Amanda Foulke.
In life, I have learned that being a person of color in America is not only a wonderful privilege, but a responsibility. Why? The afflictions brought upon this skin only make it glisten brighter after convalescence. Our people have suffered inordinately so, but this is conducive to cultivating surpassing empathy. Therefore, I believe that history, as begotten through the colored legacy, shall be one of ultimate victory.
If and only if, we unfetter ourselves from the onerous burdens of the past, then Monarchical Wings shall burgeon from our Astral Chrysalis. "For though the tribulation is momentary and light, it works out for us a glory that is of more and more surpassing weight and is everlasting." (1st Corinthians 4: 17) (New World Translation Study Edition) Se' lah.
Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 6:54 PM UTC
Since birth you've had a target on your back created by wicked people envious of the crown God ordained specifically for you
The evils of world have always tried to ****** it from you
destroy your legacy **** your image
They created a malicious plan to make you seem worthless to everybody espically your own because if your own community doesn't see you worth the vicious cycle of destruction doesn't end
In spite of it all I still see you for who God made you to be
I vow to love you to life because you've recieved enough death threats.
Feb 9, 2020
Feb 9, 2020 at 1:34 AM UTC
Let’s recognize the real from the fake.
Before we take the real for the fake and make a real mistake.
We live life the way we were taught through school but are we awake.
Sometimes we hope for a better reality, our dreams could be a reality we once lived.
For my past dreams has come true.
Felt like I lived that moment before I lean towards the term Deja Vu.
What if we are smarter than we actually pursue to believe?
The scientist of the land says we only us a small percentage of our brain, man made theory.
They also believe we all evolved; evolution through apes and we adapt.
We changed form as we transformed but they deformed our minds to contain us.
To think we’re nothing but animals because of some studied similarities.
Knowledge is power but we listen instead of read and understand.
Our brains can’t grow if we accept to be caged in on demand.
My evolution started in Africa, ancestor brought over to build this land, we own no parts of.
Like death, bodies in the dirt, those memories disintegrate piece by piece.
Until we’re just labeled as a person like the rest and we live life until we rest forever caged.
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 11:02 PM UTC
Another prophet who got his top knocked off,
this system’s toxic thought we’d found hope but lost it,
Nipsey Hussle shot down outside his clothing store Marathon,
live and die in LA grow up only to get shot down on Slauson in Compton,
and the irony is that he was taken out,
in the same neighborhood he had invested in,
from Proud2Pay to AfroTech Nip was a Community Activist,
in a system of force fed poisons he was medicine,
and maybe that’s why he was martyred,
just like MLK Tupac and Marley,
this is all real life in living color,
life’s not a Game but this is The Documentary,
every word true,
I mean do you,
think it’s just a coincidence,
that Nip was murdered when,
it was announced he was about to come out with a film,
about Dr. Sebi,
the herbalist,
who was also possibly murdered when,
he went public with claims of curing AIDS and other illnesses,
nothing random about this act of violence,
it makes so much sense when you think about it,
nothing senseless in the message,
I mean seriously think about it,
MLK shot on 4/4 at 39,
NIP shot on 3/31 at age 33,
why do the most violent things happen,
to the brothers that preach the most peace,
it all makes sense everything adds up,
but most will probably dismiss this just as another conspiracy,
I mean I guess it doesn’t matter ‘cause nothing will bring Cuz back,
RIP NIP Rest in Peace Nipsey another brother gone to young at 33,
and it’s all so eery it’s creepy,
all the above evidence plus,
“Having enemies is a blessing.”,
was his last tweet,
as the words of his last sound sit in my ears as they ring,
**** I wish my n!gga Fats was here,
how’d you die at 30 somethin’ after bangin’ all them years,
Grammy nominated in the sauna shedding tears,
all this money power fame and I can’t make you reappear.”…
RIP NIP
∆ LaLux ∆
LA 2019
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 7:27 PM UTC
I am not Wakandian.
I wish I could look at a map and say
there that’s where my people came from.
Save money, board a plane, fly
to my ancestral home, and see what made me.
But Africa is a big place
and I’m not Kenyan, Nigerian or Ethiopian.
I have no claims to their past
and no right to their future.
All I know is I have some melanin, ***** hair,
and the knowledge that my ancestors blood and bones
set the foundation for a nation
that hasn’t made its mind up about me.
So sometimes I wonder what if my ancestors
had survived sugar fields instead of cotton.
Faced whips on the islands, instead of the south.
Would I then feel at home because I could look and know.
Or would that leave me emptier since here is still not there
and a claim to there would make me less here.
I guess until I figure this out I’ll take a made-up country
to be my made-up heritage
I am Wakandian
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 10:26 PM UTC
It gets sour after a while;
that righteous quaver
that merely rousing oratory
superficial hagiography
state-sponsored martyrdom . . .
The old black and white
news-clip shots.
Yes, it was necessary;
the past was tense.
You overcame.
We got over it
gets sour after a while.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
Kings. Queens.
Consummation. Kids.
Chiefs of clans.
Children of chiefs.
Close knit communities.
Continued cycles.
Change.
Colorless crews.
Coins. Captures. Chains.
Chained to you.
Chained to the cruise.
**** me. **** he. **** she.
Check teeth,
Choose wisely.
Chastise. Cracked whips.
Change name:
Kunta, no Toby.
Change, charge.
Christ of captives,
**** them!”
No, **** him.
Continue evil.
Change.
Break chains.
Knots, no more.
No, change chains.
Lose claims.
Coax comfort.
Contradict. Corrupt.
Cascaded crucifixions.
Charred chandeliers.
Coerce without cognition of
Coming chaos
Of civic correction.
Civilians conform society.
Combatants conquer and confer.
Continue.
Cultural contributions.
Cultural appropriation.
Cultural controversy.
No complications.
No conversations.
Did not conceive,
Cannot convey.
Concede. Not Conceit.
Continue.
Kings cower before
Crowns clarify.
Kings killed.
Queens cope. Queens cry.
Queens say,
**** compliance!
**** cordial!”
Queens coordinate, combat,
Condemn, don’t compromise,
And command cessation
To corrupt civilization.
Queens continue
Coils, kinks, curls.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 3:29 PM UTC
She was known as Eartha Mae born in the small town of North in the The Palmetto State
Her childhood was even a mystery that she wished to forget from suffering abuse and neglect all because of her skin color - a light pale complexion - commonly referred as "yella"
She was of fair complexion due to the racial mix of African-American, European, and Cherokee Native American descent
Eartha was poorly treated and abandoned by others till she was saved by a Good Samaritan and taken to New York
Nurtured and raised into the Big Apple flair, she flourished and sprouted like flowers from the Earth
Charismatic and mysterious, she was like her name - spiritual and intuitive, she had a deep connection to the Great Mother (Earth)
The elements on Earth resided within her
Earth is the body, Water set in blood, Air is in the breath, and Fire ruled a free spirit
As a dancer with the legendary teacher, Katherine Dunham, who motivated the shy young girl to blossom and shine
She learned new languages and traveled to far and wide exotic places soaking up foreign cultures and faces
She was always searching for love and acceptance and enjoyed it though short and brief until she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl that she affectionately named Kitt
Eartha's life was now complete now that she had her child - someone to cherish and love
Both were different as night and day but their love ran deeper and stronger than skin - everyone noticed the powerful bond that couldn't be severed
Eartha had a subtle sensuality with a rich silky velvet speaking voice that turned vibrant, versatile, and passionate whenever she sang
A commanding powerful stage presence with a royal and noble aura - she possessed the carriage of a divinely queen
Outspoken and bold, she was not afraid to tell the truth - it nearly cost her career and left her exiled out of America until her triumphant return to Broadway in 1978, when she performed in the play, Timbuktu!
Her career was resurrected and skyrocketed once more and led her to many more places and open doors bringing fans from old generations and new, the queen had returned and was living life rich and fully
A strong social activist, she fought racism and injustice bringing unity and peace in numerous subtle ways from dance to social causes, she was admired and loved for being different and a vocal advocate for the outcast and rejected
On Christmas Day 2008, she left the world behind with Kitt by her side
Although she's gone, she will never be forgotten - her legacy lives on in her music and lives she touched
Farewell, Eartha Kitt
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 10:55 AM UTC
Listen to Things
More often than Beings
Hear the voice of fire
Hear the voice of water
Listen in the wind
To the sigh of the bush
This is the ancestors breathing
Those who are dead are not ever gone
They are in the darkness that grows lighter
And in the darkness that grows darker
The dead are not down in the earth
They are in the trembling of the trees
In the groaning of the woods
In the water that runs
In the water that sleeps
They are in the hut,
They are in the crowd
The dead are not dead.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
I am no longer master of my time
Master of these greynesses of time
What flowers can I weave for Emmett Till
the child whose soul in mine
lies bleeding....
I die alone from pride
I leave to Emmett Till his death
from horror at myself
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
we were brought here on a boat
taken from our land against our will
we were sold for loose change
with a collar upon our throats
we fell beneath the soil
ate from the hands of the unholy
forced to take beatings on our backs
until our skin began to boil
while we break way from the chains
freedom ain't free in a land not built for us
we still must eat what we're fed
and follow commands from the reigns
Go back home, they tell us
Go back to Africa, they say
but they were the ones who took us
just so they could sell us
in an attempt to learn our roots
we stand in sand and land afar
hop on a plane of knowledge
in shiny over privileged boots
now Africa doesn't even know who we are
and they don't call their land our home
we aren't welcome, obrani they say
from our chest falls a shattered heart
poorly treated by our present and our past
it's no wonder we remain so broken
striving for equality until we die
misunderstood and fading fast
years of tiresome of repetition
the mission never changes
we just want to be accepted as human
Do you finally see the vision?
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
in a world where we pray to be united
within the grasp of wholehearted humanity
standing tall
we sink in the dirt beneath our feet
and holding our heads up high we sing with the utmost pride
a song of which becomes a chanting notion
setting the tone for revenging entities
growing weary of the unwanted waste we toss our visions in the sea
without daring to take the promising chance
how are we to stand together
in a castle built to crumble in its past?
and yet we become the fools
lost in the fight and lost in our grieving
we walk the streets with our banners and our anger
without understanding what we are feeling
let me take you back to nineteen sixty three
when we marched on Washington
and we were lead by a King
what merely started as the seed of a dream
became the prelude to never ending history
yet with each milestone comes adversaries
and we still cry the tears of our fallen fathers
we still cry to be free
but remember my brothers and sisters
to be mindful in your actions
for blood does not wash blood away
and because the tongue can be a sword
be mindful of every single word you say
the whole world is unjust
be emotional if you must
but the time is now to be reflective
to be knowledgeable
to be respected
because the hearts of our sons and daughters
still need to be protected
the sun my still set orange
and they moon may still shine white
the day may still end at quarter to
the moment everything is night
and in each passing day are you going to become the change that is needed to win the fight?
are you going to do what's right?
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
Black
B - L - A - C - K
5 letters
4 consonants
1 vowel
1 race
We thank
We congratulate
We appreciate
Everyone person
Whether you created
Dominated
Or lead
You made our race what It Is
From our Barack Obamas and Martin Luthers
To our Oprah Winfreys and Maya Angelous
We thank
we congratulate
We appreciate
Everyone person who has made us, us
Black
B - L - A - C - K
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
Hush little baby
Don't you cry
Look into my
Deep brown eyes
I tell you now there comes a day
When life gets better for you baby
Baby. Ooh. Baby.
Yes. Life gets better for you baby.
Chains, all around me.
Whiplash everytime I hear a heartbeat.
Work from dawn to dusk
All day in the sun
No break for me
No I don't get none.
"Plow this pick that.
I need some cotton.
Make me my money
Before I beat you rotten"
Beat me down
But my pride's unbeatable.
**** me now
But my hiers will be equal.
Be equal. Be equal. Be equal.
Chorus
"Hey, fight this war for me.
If you do I'll bring you
All out of slavery"
Deal's fair enough
Only if it were true
I might be out chains
But still beneath you.
Can't learn. Can't vote.
And Why you ask?
It's cuz my skin's
Dark and you just can't have it.
Cant have it. Cant have it.
Chorus
We'll fight our war
And we'll fight it united.
Unity and peace
That's what we'll fight with.
Our battle scars
They will come with us knowing
That our blood was shed
But the better days are coming.
We'll dream like kings
And we'll sit in our seats
Breaking down the walls
Separating you and me.
And me. And me.
The better days
They are coming for you baby
You'll see the better days
One brighter day
For you baby.
The better days
They are coming for you and me
Won't be no slavery
It's so justly for you and me.
Chorus
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
my great grandmother said,
*Oh, freedom
oh, freedom
oh freedom
over me*
my grandmother said,
*and before i'll be a slave,
i'll be buried in my grave
and go home to my Lord
and be free*
my father said,
*no more weeping,
no more weeping
no more weeping,
over me*
I say,
before i'll be a slave,
i'll be buried in my grave
and go home to my Lord
and be free
Oh freedom!
Oh freedom
over me!
how thankful am i
how blessed am i
to be black
and
be free
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
All history is Black history,
wrapped in the shadows of time,
obscured by secret purpose and motive.
The Mother of mankind is as black as night itself,
the rich earth as dark as the space between stars.
History IS Black, and a month barely begins
to scratch its near-inscrutable surface.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC