Untitled
I hear it when I walk through the halls
It's louder than the hall monitors calling "Get to class" in the same
monotone repeatedly
I hear it over the kids that gather on the second floor to crowd the staircases
and get pissed at anyone that tries to get past
I hear it over the pounding sound of dozens of feet still lingering outside of
classrooms long after the late bell has rung
I hear it all the time, but it’s especially loud when...
Whenever the cops come browsing around
with a minor in chains linked to their wrists behind their backs and leading
them "downtown"
Whenever a fight breaks out over last year’s boyfriend that she could never seem to get
over because the baby she goes home to has her daddies eyes that “remind her of
him every day”, and she can't cope with the whispers and rumors and dirty looks
from his new girlfriend
Whenever we open our history text book and both parts of my identity are
covered in a section or less in each
chapter
But it’s the loudest during the end of second period and the beginning of homeroom.
Where we stand and face the Stars and Stripes.
It is in that moment that the cries of my culture and the cries of my gender are
the loudest.
I've heard it said before that people
like me have got it the worst here. It isn't only the color that I am it is
what's under my garments. Being black and a female, being a female and black is
the worst thing to be.
We carry the weight of two burdens
Of which we had no choice.
How can I walk these halls with peace of
mind?
When the cries of women who've been tortured and slaughtered follow not
far behind
Women who are afraid to go home
But can't stand the thought of being alone
So at night she lies in bed with one eye open
The woman that stays in every night with tears causing insomnia because she doesn't
know how she'll pay rent, but her co-worker Gregg... He sleeps through the
night just fine.
How can I walk through these halls with dignity and pride
When the laughter of a father and child was stolen by a crack of a whip
into the father's back for slacking on the job with the sun beating onto his
bare chest
Revealing scars in miscellaneous shapes
When newlyweds were separated for the rest of their lives all because the highest
bidders lived 3 states away
When I see the same chains being cuffed on ones that walk through the halls with
me
Being tossed through the "justice" system uncared for… Just like before.
And I'm expected to walk through these halls with
my head held high
Hearing the cries
Mixed with lies a girl made up about her so called "bestie" because she liked a
“certain someone's” status. And seeing the screens on TV of little kids that
could be my nephew or niece being shot in crossfire by someone that could be my
brother...or cousin... or uncle.
But still I hold a smile, still I hold pride
I embrace the cries and bury them inside.
Since no one else seems to hear it, they're a part of me.
So being black and female isn't an obstacle.
Being female and black is me.
By: Wisdom Johnson
I hear it when I walk through the halls
It's louder than the hall monitors calling "Get to class" in the same
monotone repeatedly
I hear it over the kids that gather on the second floor to crowd the staircases
and get pissed at anyone that tries to get past
I hear it over the pounding sound of dozens of feet still lingering outside of
classrooms long after the late bell has rung
I hear it all the time, but it’s especially loud when...
Whenever the cops come browsing around
with a minor in chains linked to their wrists behind their backs and leading
them "downtown"
Whenever a fight breaks out over last year’s boyfriend that she could never seem to get
over because the baby she goes home to has her daddies eyes that “remind her of
him every day”, and she can't cope with the whispers and rumors and dirty looks
from his new girlfriend
Whenever we open our history text book and both parts of my identity are
covered in a section or less in each
chapter
But it’s the loudest during the end of second period and the beginning of homeroom.
Where we stand and face the Stars and Stripes.
It is in that moment that the cries of my culture and the cries of my gender are
the loudest.
I've heard it said before that people
like me have got it the worst here. It isn't only the color that I am it is
what's under my garments. Being black and a female, being a female and black is
the worst thing to be.
We carry the weight of two burdens
Of which we had no choice.
How can I walk these halls with peace of
mind?
When the cries of women who've been tortured and slaughtered follow not
far behind
Women who are afraid to go home
But can't stand the thought of being alone
So at night she lies in bed with one eye open
The woman that stays in every night with tears causing insomnia because she doesn't
know how she'll pay rent, but her co-worker Gregg... He sleeps through the
night just fine.
How can I walk through these halls with dignity and pride
When the laughter of a father and child was stolen by a crack of a whip
into the father's back for slacking on the job with the sun beating onto his
bare chest
Revealing scars in miscellaneous shapes
When newlyweds were separated for the rest of their lives all because the highest
bidders lived 3 states away
When I see the same chains being cuffed on ones that walk through the halls with
me
Being tossed through the "justice" system uncared for… Just like before.
And I'm expected to walk through these halls with
my head held high
Hearing the cries
Mixed with lies a girl made up about her so called "bestie" because she liked a
“certain someone's” status. And seeing the screens on TV of little kids that
could be my nephew or niece being shot in crossfire by someone that could be my
brother...or cousin... or uncle.
But still I hold a smile, still I hold pride
I embrace the cries and bury them inside.
Since no one else seems to hear it, they're a part of me.
So being black and female isn't an obstacle.
Being female and black is me.
By: Wisdom Johnson
