Black Woman's Monologue

(This past summer I spent my time with a summer program "Writer's Block Ink" for my second year as a camp counselor and in the show we did, "The Slave Inside of Me", I was a condescending dean of a performing arts school who was entirely sick of the gangbangers and the embarrassing excuses of black men. So basically, I was racist against my own race.)

 

The last thing I wanna talk about is another black man getting chained down and whipped for the freedom black men abuse today.

Please...

Those black men worked hard.
Picking crops until they drowned in a pool of blood, sweat and tears.
Biting their tongues when "Mr. Slave Master" spat a sly comment,
Verbally stabbing their mind and self-worth.
Having their wives and children taken away, like a bag of dirt.

Dirt; What modern black men evolved into.

The rags that the slaves wore changed colors overtime.
Assigning each hoodlum to every street of the poor excuse of civilization or what we call, 
"The Hood", "The Ghetto", "The Projects".
Shredding their belts so that their pants sink lower than their IQ's.
Slaves died, black women were literally silenced, and black men were hosed down, beatened, and hanged for the rights we have now,
And gangstas just throw it away all for the theories of "swag" and "the thug life"
Drinking, smoking, sexing, shooting, vandalizing, ALL CHEATING DEATH!
And bringing it to the innocent people.
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, living one day and dying the next,
From a stray black bullet,
In the barrel of a black gun,
In the hands of a black man,
NO!

I knew better than that.
I am better than that.
I'm better than them.

So unlike them and their selfish ways, I took advantage of the education I've been granted, and ended up here
Away from the stereotypes, wasted talents, tainted potentials, and empty minds of those black men.
In hopes of leading youth, to the lighter side of life.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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