Who made you Black?
From scalp to top sole, like topsoil, your skin is dark. You are far from invisible, even if some days you feel the tread of pedestrian traffic weigh you down to the ground.
People see you wherever you go, especially in contrast to masses of glaring Whiteness.
While sitting, walking, or standing in plain sight, your Blackness is predominant. But because your existence is trivialized, your presence is often undervalued. You were made Black, and suffer the consequences. At times, the dejection can be awfully heavy.
So, where do you go when you feel trivialized and low in spirit?
Deep in the darkness, where pariahs congregate, low spirits hum peculiar tunes, emit profound aromas, flavors, and frequencies. It’s complex. Some prey on, go out of their way for, and spend fortunes just to covet them. Despair is monetized for profit, and you can transform pain into cash. With help from executives, you can easily be the foie gras of humanity.
Open wide for a pipe to be shoved down your throat. Not once, but twice daily, then commence pumping. A couple pounds of grain and fat roll down the esophagus like a mighty stream into the belly, swelling the liver until it’s ten times its original size. You are the fat liver, a delicacy now, after all of the pain.
You are virtually incapacitated. When you’re force fed rules and regulations that prevent you from overthrowing a system that will presumably kill you, expect to self-destruct. But don’t.
Rap about Hublots first. After that, Snapchat fat stacks of greenbacks to your ear, leave em there, until time runs out. Dance, like you surprised you can, and didn’t just create the latest trend a week ago, retweet Issa Rae #wegotyou, then content bomb Instagram like you been doing, and watch it all go viral overnight.
Sure, you’ll be criticized and called names, but it ain’t no new thing to be ridiculed now and appropriated later.
Pushed aside to dwell in the margin, where there’s an apparent lack of resources, nonetheless rummaged through for fresh ideas. You got millions of followers despite your minority status. Your survival is a spectacle. It’s a silver sequined glove, socks, and the illusion of moving forward while gliding backwards. It’s on fleek. It’s taking the best part of a song and making it last for longer than a few seconds.
It’s knowing why caged birds sing.
You can’t help but to captivate the world, even while the system of White Supremacy dominates. You have proven to be the most celebrated and reviled person on the planet. Your history is riddled with indignant subjugation. You currently endure iniquitous amounts of oppression via systematic racism, and while few overcome the outrageous odds, many are compelled to self-destruct. Those who don’t are testaments to the world that a determined will can overcome catastrophic adversity. For better or worse, Blackness is a compelling force. Those who drift freely into its atmosphere can’t resist the pull to draw closer and orbit like a satellite.