America's Abortion (2003)

I am the child born in the shadows,

The one who speaks but is never heard.

I have cried louder than any roar.

You may not find me with my nose in a book or turned up in the air;

My presence is felt, whether or not you see me there.

I am like a stranger, in a strange land.

I am the child who possesses more than the future in my hands.

Jesus was a stranger too, so here's my advice to you:

When I speak - listen, and when I whisper pay full attention.

I am the child who was born in the shadows;

I am like a stranger in a strange land.

This abbreviated epic is about the condition of the black man in the United States of America as he exists now – an aborted entity purposely disconnected from any sort of history, self-worth, community, and identity than any of his forefathers. His condition is the result of a history and society that has been engineered and sustained through the derogation of those who have black skin (or the thought of a drop of it) for the creation of an inferior class of workers who can easily be identified and labeled. In addition, the physical and psychological pillaging and prostitution of the black woman, mother of the black man, throughout history has also created a breed of women whose strength and love has been neglected by a world, black and white, that forces her to love the very forces that destroy her. Nearly two-thirds of African-American males born post 1970s were born to single mothers. The rest had fathers who were too busy fighting and “paving a way” to fulfill their fatherly duties leaving the responsibility of shaping a black man-child to the depleted mother whose own view of black manhood has been tainted by the weak misrepresentations she herself has been privy to, impeding the development of her own black man. The obstacle of finding purpose in life is a daunting task.

There is no need for me to include the rhetoric of socio-economic and political ills that infect the growth of black boys into black men, the proof is in the black neighborhoods of New Haven, Atlanta, New York, Dallas, Los Angeles and every other city where poverty and despair coexist in a society of material excess and self-indulgence. Black males are thrown into a system without an ability to hold onto self, they are told to embody the misrepresentations of the Black man. They are taught not to mature. If the condition of the black male is unknown, there are several books and reports dedicated solely to this subject matter. If the misrepresentation is not understood, realize that all that is seen is a myth. Black boys live a periphery American life; none of the rights are exercised because none are guaranteed. They are taught to live life lusting after the bubbling pot that they have prepared and served, but never tasted, from which America supposedly feeds everyone. In essence the black man has become a social, political, educational and economical abortion conducted by America as he was pulled out of his mother so she could be stripped of all of all her natural resources for the purpose of capitalist expansion and imperialism (traditional and neo). America has left the Black man to die with no substance to sustain his growth and development

A teacher once referred to me as “the urbanized [black] version of the boy next door”, if this is the case why is it that I have yet to find myself reflected and accepted in mainstream culture as I am. The Black man is complex and multidimensional, but as a social entity, I have been limited to narrow conceptions of my existence in present form. I have been dumb down. I once existed in true form. I should be looked upon as a continuation of Robeson and DuBois … my soul lives in exile while I walk in shame. I have become a reinvented American caricature of the Nigger, enhanced and supported by Jim Crow, disguised as Fifty Cent and Eminem (or visa versa, same picture). Of course the black man has anger and he can easily reflect violence, take a look at my birth … there is a reason for it, I was left for dead. For that reason the abortion was unsuccessful. Black boys will inevitably grow past the lie and become men. The embryo of an actualized history of black manhood has developed despite all attempts to kill him. The boy broke the façade. The neighbors never really know what is taking place next door; it is time to remove the mask of a false acculturation.

Long ago in Africa’s land, I was the seed,

The original man; I was a King.

Stripped of my dignity, my religion, my tongue, and my land;

I was a slave.

Brought to America, made bowed head American

With bruised hands and squinted eyes,

With a hunched back – bent over backwards, I survived.

I was not going to be anybody’s slave.

Then my people were dispersed and scared.

I was a revolutionary.

I was a king,

A slave and

A revolutionary;

Still my heart longs to be king again.