I coughed into a handkerchief
As I escaped the deadly poor
Such a waste of resources
But it covers up the gore.
I coughed into a handkerchief
As I escaped the deadly poor
Such a waste of resources
But it covers up the gore.
This is a plague,
A harmonious disease that spread. Invaded the deep crusted lungs that once saved.
It is easy, no really, to see how it may have led to this.
How the blacked sun with a burnt out ring lead to people fighting, and dying, and lying,
They did not try, or so we are told, to change the ways that their ancestors taught
But so covered in ash are we
We do not see that we too are diseased
Picking at scraps and scabs that bleed
The ones that turned our lungs to lead and spread
To unknown places that lay us dead
We fight for a time when the moon bleed gold
When the sun fell upon our shoulders on a once forgotten boat
But those times have come to an end. Twisted within the desserts wind
Our ancestors taught us well and well this wound has festered
Growing daily in blackened sun while they sing hymns of battles won.
“Negative” I wonder outloud to a foreign crowd of my forgotten brethren
They speak some vows and turn my way
Noticing the privilege I proclaim
The twist of my hips
The turn of my lips
The graceless way I speak out of turn
I know that I am not one of them
With my too brown skin and my too black hair
Kinked up readily to face the wind
“Negative” I proclaim with a sneer
For deep down inside
I know that I am not welcomed here
But I hide it with a haughty stance
One hand on my lip and the other on my chest
My blood was never going to be enough
My twisted tongue can’t speak those vows
Spoken outloud by a foreign crowd
But I am going to go on pretending
That my black will matter here
A painter standing
Tips a brush dripped in koi blood
And dashes off the excess
Before applying a swipe of oppression
On a canvas filled with a traitors jest
He rest his hand in a still life rendition
To a crowd of a white washed plague
A painter standing in ovation
Tearing into another bottle of ink
He is not done tainting this history
A paint brush dipped in koi blood
A canvas of a nation that once was
He makes a mark that may just last
To a crowd of reflective glass
debased by the mongrels son
of which there is no other
his greatest sin was loving me
as i laid with his white brother
such improper etiquette
requires the stealth of a lover
the mongrels son knows not what ive done
yet i taunt him sober
for i am his bride yet i cannot hide
my lust for the their power
Share a story that has hurt you.
Something that ripped you to tiny piece and made it as though you didn’t not think you would survive.
Share that story, leave out no details, because I have a feeling this will help you heal.
Realize how much you have conqured.
The painful memories you can’t bear to hold.
Just let them go.
Share me a story if your deepest fear. Tell it all and leave out no details.
We need to see we are not alone.
Parenting is one of the most difficult things in the world. You have this tiny person who depends on you. A person you must watch grow into this not so tiny adult. All the while you must feed them, clothe them, make sure they stay clean, house them, educate them, etc. At times they do not allow this to happen. They will fight you, and often times, they will win.
One popular belief is that your parenting style is already set in stone. It is your race that decides what kind of parent you are.
Latino/Mexican/Hispanic parents are absent. They tend to yell a lot and be a bit helicopterish but they are loving as well. They may lean towards abusive but in a way that their children joke about later in life. They are all about family. Not as accpeting of uniqueness.
Caucasian America parents are smothering. They strive to be their childs friend first and a parent dead last. They are the fun ones. You can get away with murder. Literal murder and they would still root for your success. They are not smart and should not be trusted. This is due to the fact that they seem perfect but are quick to disown children. They do not value family but inside value appearance.
Asian parents are prone to abuse. Like white families they have a tendency to disown their children for various means. They care more about work and grades then anything else. There is no time for fun with them.
Black parents are the poster child of abuse and neglectful parenting. They do not care about their children at all. Actually they are pretty quick to beat them for looking the wrong way. Like the rest above they can have their good moment but it is so rare. They also value appearance but it goes hand and hand with strength. As long as you are not caught by those in charge, you can do anything. From selling drugs, being a bully, to outright mudering and torturing people. A black parent will protect their child at all cost all the while punishing them for being born.
See these?
These are fucking sterotypes. But they are so ingrained into american society that we are ok with that. Black parents are already seen as a danger to their children well before they are even born. White families are seen to be a mistake. Perfect but still a mistake in the making. Asian parents are seen as though they are preparing for an academic war. Hispanic/Latino/Mexican parents are probably the only ones seen in a decent light but even they are assumed to be absent all the the time and abusive.
These are stereotypes we allow to exsit. No one is trying to change then at all.
I am a black mom to a biracial little girl.
I admit I freaking suck at being a parent. She just went to bed today without dinner.
Why?
Cause I took her to church and struggled to keep her entertained as she screamed her little head off every time someone dared look her way. Of course this was the last 30 mins or so. Still she pooped herself out, refused to eat dinner, and instead went to bed.
I am not doing this with a guide. To me not eating before going to bed is horrible.
But it is a mistake many parents make.
I can tell you about one time my daughter went to take a poop. I guess she got lost cause she ended up going into her room and taking a giant shit in a bucket. She hid that bucket then went to wipe her butt. Since there was piss in her potty (yes she made it to the potty to pee) I assumed she farted in her room. I didn’t find the poop bucket to close to an hour after. I had sprayed something in her room to kill the smell. It worked for that hour but came back. So I went to investigate and saw the bucket.
Now here is the part where most people would assume I went sterotype black on her mocha ass but I didn’t. Instead I sat her down and talked to her. I made her clean the bucket and she wasn’t allowed to play with toys for a few hours.
I am a black parent but I am not a sterotype. I am not a statistic and my race should not condemn me as one.
I know many parents would have spanked or even beat the shit out of their kids for that. Not me!
What is found above is how I have seen people describe each race and their parebting styles. Of course these are told to me by people who are bot of that race. If they are that race then they are joking about how they survived this or that.
I mean yay you parent beat you euth an extention cord and you lived to see another day. Sucks to so though that others did not.
Abuse is not funny at all.
Saying one race is a better parent is not right.
Your race doesn’t automatically win you parenting points.
Your past, your surrounding, your support system is what decides your parenting style.
If you grew up in an abusive home it does not mean you will automatically be a horrible parent. Nor does it mean you will automatically be a good parent. There are so many factors that are in play in deciding your parenting style. So why the fucking superman do people think that race is one of them.
I have met some wonderful parents and I have met some shitty parents. I can assure you that race wasn’t the decuding factor.
So…why is this ok?
Why is it ok to sterotype someone as being a shit parent?
Why is this normal and accepted by everyone?
I do not rightly know but it needs to stop.
Beauty has always been skin deep
Ignorant to the flesh around me
Simmer so astoundingly
A breathless lie indeed
This is all you see as I try to hide
A fact upon a wooden spoon slapped across a cheek
Don’t worry, your lies was beaten into me
Beautiful is not what you think it is
Earth splayed across my skin
Try to scrub it free
Panic cause I know inside
Beautiful was never skin deep
Forget the lies you tell me
Simmer all in one
Pat the snow unto my flesh and pretend it is my own
Walk with my head to the dust
Copper tones turned to rust
Flakes off doubt begin to seep
Do not bother lying to me
I know where I stand today
Always hated yet in demand
A prize to be won and then forgotten
I know what I am to you
I know that I am bound to lose
Simmered in long-held doubt
I know what my life is truly about
Whether black as tar
Or white as light
I will not matter by the end of the night
My skin is judged
Hated by the abused
And the guilt-ridden oppressors
No matter the color of their skin
In their eyes
I will never fucking win
Open a list of half-baked rules
Slice me to and fro
In the end, it means nothing
Cause my skin is all this world knows.
Whether from friend or foe
I will be judged by this cookie cutter mold
Beauty is skin deep all but me
Because nothing I do will ever please
Fuck this shit don’t lie to me
Say it is all in my head when over
And over
And over
And over again
You cut with me your half-baked lies
Cookie cutter mold never will fit just right
To which method would you to slice?
Mud colored skin never looked so dirty
Against those who said they will always love me
Whether black or white
In the end
No matter what I do.
I will never win.
A/N
I am an American who just so happens to have ancestors from Africa. I deal with Racism a lot but not in forms others are willing to talk about.
Because if the way I talk, my interests, the way I dress…everything. I am judged by the world. Black people want nothing to do with me same as other races. They say that we are all brothers and sisters and yet I am excluded because of who I am inside.
My skin plays a big part in how people look at me. They think that I need to act or look a certain way or I can’t belong.
Even people who are open-minded have this lovely mold in place for me. See freedom is a lie. Freedom is basically every living in someone’s version of Harmony. What it is good for the people as a whole is not always a good thing.
People expect others to step up and live their dream with them but that is not fair. We all have our own ideas of perfect. Freedom isn’t fair…it truly isn’t. Someone is always going to be left in the dust
Dirty little white girl
All you believe of me
Dirty little white girl
Swinging from the trees
Nothing but a liar
Nothing but a fake
Nothing but a moldy little bitch that you can’t wait to break
Call me all these names
Label me as you feel
I’m just a dirty little white girl
Cause my brown doesn’t matter here
Send me to the front
Fight your battles when I’m worthy
But once it’s done
Send me home and tell them that I was worthless
Waste your time and mine
Make me feel like I am not right
Confused
Deranged
Disgusting
Just a dirty little white girl worth nothing
My suffering is all my fault
I laid with master you see
But master doesn’t love me
Just left me to bleed
Stupid trash no one attempted to grieve
Dirty little white girl floating to and fro
Where do you belong little girl?
Cause I don’t rightly know
Your brown doesn’t matter here
You are not like the others
One of a kind
Pretend to be one of those brown fellows
But that’s not who you are inside
How did you get so lucky
Speech so pretty
Face so greedy
Sit here little white girl
And let me show the world how I love to help those who are needy
Just a dirty little white girl
That’s all you see
A dirty little white girl
Swinging from the trees
My brown doesn’t matter here
Cause it’s not what you believe
So I must he a dirty little white girl
That no one bothered to grieve.