Metaphor

Imagine it this way…

I am on a big ship with a bunch of other people. The ship has all the provisions we need and no one is going to be hungry or thirsty. We get to read as much as we want, write, and make music. Before boarding I am given a directive: “You will disembarking the ship first when it enters the port no matter what. You first. It is your birthright. While on board, select the group of people you want to accompany you. Upon leaving the ship everyone will go further toward the happiness of their own destinations, but the group you select leaves first. The ship will be at sea for a hundred years plus four. The next group to leave will have to wait another hundred years. Choose who you want. Not all will say yes. Not all will say no. You can’t take everybody. Decide who to ask in whatever way makes you happy.” Each person is given their own directive to be sure, but I am given mine nonetheless. My group’s next no matter what and my ship is coming in to port. Folks who ain’t ready gon’ be all right. Not every ship is for every single body. And yes, this is about literacy. How we read words and music and chicken bones and gardens and fabric. They stopped tryin’ to stop me ’cause I can’t be stopped. And stopping me ain’t what this is about. Folks ask me about God and I hand ’em a mirror and tell ’em, “Just remember: when I see God, she is a black woman.”