Am I overthinking it?
Tak4 Action | Lawrence Strothers | Drawing
Am I Overthinking It? By Lydia Wosen
We try to make it black and white but it’s not black and white
Because you forget the gray, the brown, the tan, the extra black, the different spices and seasonings that come with this and that
There’s no definite bad guy or blameless victim
There’s good in the bad and bad in the good
Why do I need to be the better man
Pretending like once upon a time I was never banned
You can’t say the word
We can’t walk freely
We’re all fighting for the same thing, the thing we always complain that doesn’t grow on trees
We say you pull the trigger too quickly
You say we sell flour that makes you feel dizzy
But don’t all races do these things?
Well let’s see
According to a .gov 2019
69.4% of crimes were committed by white
And 26.6% of crimes by black
You see I don’t see where this idea came from, this idea of black means bad
Or these actions when women clutch their bags as we pass
I don’t understand why we all need to fight, why we all always need to be right
I don’t understand why leaders become leaders if they don’t truly lead
I don’t understand why they can agree to protect pandas, dolphins, and trees instead of protecting me
I don’t understand the issue of seeing everyone as equals or why BLM protests are only seen as sequels
The sad thing is, I’m supposed to stand strong with them yet I’m grateful to be one of the lighter ones
How can I betray my people, but are they really my people because there’s a difference between Black American and African American
Shit
Look what I’m doing at a time like this I’m creating division, but is it really division or necessary distinction
Because we don’t grow up the same
Because I’m too black for the white kids but not enough of a specific type of black for the black kids
Because I didn’t eat a type of food at a cookout with uncle and aunties roaming around gossiping making me feel cozy and homey
Because the only blood I have is one cousin and one aunt, the rest of them across the world, their crops being the main food source they got
But what’s it mean anyway, I’m only seen for the multitude of melanin in my skin
The melanin we have combines us, defines us, recombines us under the one term black
Like how under the blanket term of white there’s Welsh and Irish and English and Canadian all with your different traditions, different conditions, different musicians, equally deserving recognition, each person struggling with their own society-caused inhibitions
But can we really understand
The distance between us just seems to expand
Is the lack of societal moves the answer to why certain officers took unnecessary action
Because I wonder why Breonna Taylor had to die, George7 Floyd had to die, Stephon Clark had to die for our struggles to finally be recognized
Why the claws of a system that started hundreds of years ago still gnash at those who’ve barely survived
Why that system still wraps itself around me like the pet snake I never wanted
Why I’m still the only one who looks like me in class
Why I can’t help but compare my kinky hair that bends this way and that to everyone else’s smooth strands that lay as straight as their backs
Why do I have to feel out on stage when the teacher talks about what happened to blacks in the past
Why does it feel people pick and choose their words like they would pick and choose the ripest fruit because they know I’m in the room
Why do I get to feel out of place
Why is going to an HBCU my only opportunity to not be a minority
Why do I get to watch the news of another police interaction gone wrong and worry what’ll happen to my dad if he ever gets pulled over
Wonder if he’ll talk nice enough but not too much
If he’ll keep his hands on the wheel and be still
If he’ll keep his emotions in check knowing how stressed he easily gets so as not to scare mr. policeman
If their interaction is just a ticking time bomb for his debut on the news
If instead of coming home complaining about his meetings I see him on tv underneath mr. policeman, eyes desperate, pleading.
