In loving memory of the inclusivity and resilience of Maya Angelou
ThePoetry~ThePoetsAndThePoetesses
#BlackLivesMatter
ThePoetry
“LETTER TO WHOEVER KEEPS CHANGING BLACK LIVES MATTER TO ALL LIVES MATTER
ON THE BATHROOM STALL ON THE FIRST FLOOR OF WELLMAN HALL”
by Tanya Azari
when sitting down to take a piss, the last thing i expect to see is this:
the phrase Black Lives Matter written on the bathroom stall
with “Black” crossed out and replaced with the word “All.”
and if that wasn’t appalling enough, what really gets to me
is that this hasn’t happened just once
or twice,
it has happened so many times
that this door is covered in scratch marks,
almost looking like lash marks,
someone
trying to beat the message into an audience
like their ancestors tried to
beat black bodies once,
see here’s the thing about
All
Lives
Matter —
we have always known that
your
lives
matter,
that white lives matter,
because the fact of the matter
is that you, faceless defacer,
are probably white.
because these are the people that seem to think it’s their right
to co-opt other groups’ movements to
try and make themselves more included but
between you and me,
i seem to be the only one that’s concluded
that the color of my skin makes me less likely to be wounded —
being full or half or even looking white
means you and i are safer in this country, see in
2000-2011
the NYPD reported that
6.67 black people were killed annually by police
whereas only 1.58 of fallen bodies
were people that looked like you and me
and since then we have seen
far too many unarmed black men and women
shot down by heat —
body left for four hours on a Ferguson street,
body left for two hours outside a gas station before
being dragged into an SUV,
bodies bleeding the same red that’s
present under white skin,
only they are bleeding out
while we still get to bleed in.
so to the mystery vandalist:
what will it take for you to understand this?
to realize
that the evidence is right
between their eyes —
black people are being murdered by white police
and all you can say in this bathroom stall is
“hey, but what what about me?”
OK, let’s talk about you.
you ought to be ashamed,
trying to claim this movement as your own
and i want to make sure you know
that when you scratch out this
slogan of resistance
you systematically undermine the existence
of black people
and their struggle
and your rebuttal smuggles a
white supremacist agenda
into this gendered bathroom stall.
you are trying to
stop conversations on race like how
policemen’s bullets have stopped
beating black hearts,
you are reaffirming that you are a part
of the unchecked prejudice and racism of our nation,
what i am saying
is that if Black Lives don’t matter
then nobody else’s do.
and yes,
that includes you.
so choose:
you can sit in this stall, scratching out writings on the wall,
creating falsified statements to
try and take up more space, or
you can face reality,
not be complacent with these fatalities
erase your placated mentality
and rewrite your moralities
then when confronted with what you thought
and what you’ve learned,
choose the latter.
raise your pen in solidarity, and write
Black Lives Matter.
~~~
“An Ode to the Sistahs”
by Theodore Mitchell
My mama told me from birth you be the proud heir to the throne so always keep this in your dome wherever you roam know that you my prince.
So with extreme confidence know that your greatness is based IN providence cause the power of God be in you.
And for me that always rang true. See at my granny house the home work was to learn the way love work to heal any woe. And I always wondered but never questioned how she know what she no’s.
Our elder sistah Dr. Welsing teaches that. When in a system based on an ideal of white supremacy; Based on a fear of genetic annihilation; The Black man and his seed be the greatest weapon. And if it was anything for me to learn the greatest lesson would be to love. To love ourselves enough to do whatever it takes for liberation and protection of the seed the sun.
Our elder sistah Dr. Mariamba Ani teaches that the asili the cultural seed of the oppressor seeks to grow in our garden and suffocate our potential. We must root out the foreign concepts so that our genetic memory may be able to flourish in this physicality because when we be the garden thrives.
Our elder sister now in the realm of the ancestors sistah Dr. Maya Angelou told us why a caged bird sings and of the power that a phenomenal woman brings, be enough to know that regardless of the heartless yet and still like a phoenix we rise.
And so the sistahs be my muses
Cause through all the confusion
The business they sticks to it
Like raising generations
While we be licking our bruises
Preparing a way for us to always take lead in the movement
See these sistahs be our muses
Inspiring us to go higher
Even though the situation be dire
She be right there beside us
See her smile keep the struggle from being worthless
Her happiness gives the long days and night purpose
To lay down my life for her would be worth it
To live for her, would be to enhance her perfection
In her I see the Creators reflection
A mirror to the divinity in me
See in we, lies the keys to the liberation of we
See these sistah be my muses
Cause through all the confusion
The business they stick to it
Like Isis and Nephtys breathing life into Osiris with a kiss
See she be the real high scientist
In her lies the purpose of him
She give birth to the universe
One word to describe her
Love
It be in every beat of her hip
She put a pound in every dish
So for her on the brightest star I wish
I could ever be so Sirius
See theses sistahs be muses
Cause through all the confusion the business she stick to it
Like Harriet she be carrying us to freedom land
Like Sojourner hollering ‘Aint I a Woman
Like Biddy Mason securing places
Laying the foundation so that we could be
Like Phyllis Wheatley speaking verses to the creative spirit in me
Like Assata & Afeni
Best believe she be the reason that we be
Madea making sure that we knew the family history
Weaving quilts so we would remember even in the cold of the winter
The protection and the splendor
But we like Bed Bath & Beyond so much so much
We done developed amnesia
See the sistahs be the muses cause the all the confusion the business she stick to it
Teaching we that in this world we must be wise as the serpent and as harmless as the dove
Translation speak to me be as crafty as you need
But do all things in love
ThePoets&ThePoetesses
“LETTER TO WHOEVER KEEPS CHANGING BLACK LIVES MATTER TO ALL LIVES MATTER
ON THE BATHROOM STALL ON THE FIRST FLOOR OF WELLMAN HALL”
by Tanya Azari
Tanya Azari is two fists and a bloody nose. It is her third year here. In the University, she studies Spanish and English. Outside of the University, she studies what people are really saying when they don’t speak, the way they walk through rooms, how sometimes they slowly disappear without anyone noticing. She runs the SickSpits Spoken Word Collective on campus and wants YOU to come to their Open Mics and Writers’ Workshops (find more info at facebook.com/SickSpits). You can see more of Tanya’s work at facebook.com/TanyaAzariPoetry.
“An Ode to the Sistahs”
by Theodore Mitchell
Theodore Mitchell is a second-year transfer student from Los Angeles. He is currently majoring in clinical nutrition with a minor in Neuroscience. He is also currently serving as one of the Black Family Day/Black Family Week co-coordinators, with active roles in many campus groups. Theodore’s life goal is help in the complete liberation of peoples of African Descent (i.e. all of humanity but Black people first and foremost) through the combination of scientific knowledge with ancient thought for use in the healing arts and community building.
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Photo Courtesy Tanya Azari.
