Many of us struggle to see under stars that don’t shine, we tarry under clouds full of rain
And attempt to find shade like refugees in search of refuge and nirvana.
On a journey to promise the land we find ourselves in is not full of milk or honey.
But killers bees in search of workers for false queens.
The land of the free slave, has NO more crowns our size they say, rooms but with no more seats they say.
These are the untold stories of those who voices has been choked by tongue twisters, their history buried under 6 feet of oppression, their pride swallowed like sour apples. Their culture stolen then paraded before them like baboons, their God given features likened to monkeys.
I remember days in the playground, buried under wood-chips I can still feel them embedded in my skin, beaten to a pulp by kids who shared my tint, chanting African booty scratcher as they pointed they finger at me.
Bickering in unison to my pain, I’ve found that you’ll find most conformist in bandwagons, sharing unoriginal thoughts and perpetuating volatile stigmas.
These are the untold stories of blanc
Working harder than all your bleached skinned friends. Just to get looked at, and be told you’re overqualified,
So I’m too smart,
I’m too educated,
I’m too diverse,
I’m too skilled to work here.
Because I’ll do too good of a job, even if I decide to get paid the same amount as everyone else.
What’s an over-qualified man to tell his wife and 3-kids when he walks through them over-arching doors about them over-qualified bills.
When she looks him In the eyes with the same glimmer of hope she left him with?…
Does he tell the truth that he overqualified?, or that he just qualified. Does he watch the glimmer of hope fade,
Does he put her through that disappointment
or does he lie…
These are the untold stories of noir
Privilege is a blessing but when not taught, offspring of such an inheritance assume that life should revolve around what make comfortable.
Riches corrupt and comfortability consumes the heart in fear.
Both ends of the spectrum get caught in this vice grip for sustained power.
They do not realize the power is a current that must be shared not stored.
Their greed will puff them up with fear till they explode
These are the untold stories of kings and queens who traded their crowns for thorns.
Only to be robbed in rags and anointed in shame see universally the greatest and most powerful stories are those untold.
Ibrahima Yansane