If I were a White Man or a White Woman
But I’m a black woman.*
No matter. This is for everyone.
“Women are the niggers of the world!”
“Mass-farming is the new slavery!”
“Gay rights are the new Civil Rights Movement!”
It seems everyone wants the
romance
of my struggle,
but nobody wants to
acknowledge
my struggle.
They scream,
“Post-racial!”
“Colour blindness!”
“One love!”
And continue to fetishize
my body
my resistance
my words —
repackaged for the
oppressed-but-not-as-inhuman-as-me.
Your character becomes clear
when you’ve used the master’s tools
to explain,
yet again,
why this struggle belongs to everyone —
everyone, anyone, but me.
Millions of my ancestors have
already died in this fight —
how dare you ignore their
bravery,
strength,
beauty?
How dare you disrespect their
memory,
history,
legacy?
How dare you ask us to die
when we have been doing so
since the 16th century
in a war never officially declared?
How dare you imply that black love exists within chains?
How dare you co-opt
our words and messages
while reminding us that you,
as well as millions of others,
only notice the injustices you choose to prioritize?
Do not forget the oligarchy’s
origins,
players,
consequences —
do not forget that capitalism and by default corporatism
were built on my great great great grandmother’s
sweat and
blood and
tears.
Do not forget the people who have always been the most
brutalized
dehumanized
policed
abused
used
violated
by the sociopathy of the elite.
I am black. You are white.
We may attend the same school,
bleed the same colour,
hate the same system.
But none of this changes
my experience,
my culture,
my struggle.
How dare you use our likeness,
(robbed of humanity
denied autonomy)
to call for a revolution
that denies our experience
as different than yours?
Your character only counts
when you are seen as an
individual person
instead of a physically manifested,
collective psychological shadow
that plagues the concept of whiteness.
Your colour blindness ultimately hinders your revolution.
Solidarity cannot exist without a mutual understanding of
my struggles and yours.
I understand yours.
You do not wish to acknowledge mine
except as
racialized pornographic clickbait —
verbal fodder for unoriginal faux revolutionism —
symbols to be homogenized and exploited.
How dare you ask us to “Rise up or die”
in a war defined by you.
How dare you ask to fight alongside me
while using such a
demeaning
dehumanizing
piece of art depicting blackness?
Whether or not we are struggling against the same forces,
your history differs from mine.
Your ancestors fought differently than mine.
Differences do not have to be divisions.
A cohesive revolution does not require homogeneity.
Nor does it require images of black women and men fucking in chains.
*This was painful to type. Please work on completing sentences in a sound manner before writing any manifestos.
