Considered sub-human by most, we were bought and sold at will
Now, the same black bodies are commodified
Our hips, our lips, our…d*cks
They want to look like us, but not be us
All lives cannot matter until black lives truly matter
Some say, ‘everyone has an equal opportunity to rise’
But will stand on the necks of the black and brown bodies fighting to stay above water
So, we drown
We can’t breathe
We die.
Another one lost
Another, doctor, another writer, another poet, another lover, another one grasping at the ‘equal opportunity’
Stop us breathing long enough and we stop talking
Stop us breathing long enough and we sink
We go back to ‘our place; our space’
But the ones standing on our necks chant ‘all lives matter’
All lives, of course except black ones
If we aren’t seen as human in the first place, we won’t matter
We are parts that make up a whole
Pieces to be bought and sold so you commodify us to those who want to be like us, but not be us.
Our lips, our hips, our…dicks
Dollars and cents… But, somehow still we rise
We pull and fight and still we rise
We fight for our space, we fight to take up space
And when we have a firm grip on that ‘equal opportunity’…finally…
We feel the pressure of hundreds of years of oppression on our necks
Hundreds of pounds of hate
Hundreds of years of supremacy
Hundreds of pounds of privilege
We can’t breathe, but we somehow still manage to fight
Claw our way out of the ashes, like a phoenix to face another day, trying to grasp at that elusive goal where all lives; our lives will matter
