Black History Month

I bless our Black Men, Buffalo Soldiers as Bob Marley tried to tell us through song. If I could touch each Black Brother I see and tell them that in spite of all of the oppression, the collective box society has tried to place them in, they are indeed the MOST EXQUISITE ADDITION TO THE HUMAN RACE EVER. So mighty in form, so absolutely beautiful. Society has labeled the Black Man as Menace, Baby Daddy (never father – a blatent lie) Bafoon, Ignorant and the Black Woman’s dumping ground. A Black man is dreaded, an entity to run from and to fear their uncontrollable desires. However, look around. A bi-racial man is our President. He self identifies as a Black Man. The last has become first. Our Black Men must first be HEALED. They’ve been put upon, lied on, disrespected, lynched (literally and figuratively) and many are simply walking along the well worn path. The path of least resistance. The path everyone expects the Black Man to tread. I offer a poem to all of my Black KINGS. I dedicate to my Husband,Father, Brother, Nephews and beautiful Black Men in my life: BLACK MAN Give me your whole self. Not the part of you that has been dusted off, cleaned up and made new. I want the pieces of you that have been disillusioned, disappointed and discouraged. The parts of you that lie awake deep in the night crying bitter tears. The man who feels pressured by the system but keeps keeping on daily. I want the man who suffers from deep-seated, institutional racism. The man who others see and clutch purses tighter, lock car doors, leave elevators or otherwise assume you mean them harm. I want the man whose walk, whose talk, whose essence is always emulated but can never be duplicated as nothing truly exquisite ever is. Through all the pain, all the humiliation, all the negativity, our men have to be held. We must bring order where there is disarray because we are their help-mate. We must piece together what was stolen from us long ago on hot Mississippi nights. We can go back to the beginning when we were taught a new lanquage and forced to wear tattered rags concealing our blackness. Before our skin tones were watered down and turned into the melange of colors by the cruel, pale hands of fate. We can take the ragged pieces of you that were forged during the middle passage and painstakingly piece you together again. We need to restore you to your original brilliance. The time has come for us to embrace the whole of you. To honor your struggle and restore you to your rightful headship. Only then can we begin to heal what is wrong with our families and truly comprehend love noir.