Written in 2008
Look at us young black youth with out pants hung low as if to say we will always be down and out. We don’t even bother to pull them up.
Perhaps it is an accurate expression of the life that we will come to know and experience in Amerikkka.
The product of a single-parent home where our mother is on welfare and our father is a rolling stone, caught up in the game, strung out on drugs and women. Our father barely even knows our name.
It is common for us to walk past old school pimps and prostitutes, used drug needles and crack pipes, empty shell casings and yellow crime scene tape on our way to the corner store.
We question ourselves as to whether we should take such a low road. But what options do we have in the ghettos of Amerikkka? Who will find us worthy enough to invest enough time in so that we stay on the straight and narrow? Where are the strong black male role models who can inspire us, give us wisdom and encouragement, instill in us good morals, values and principles, and teach us the importance of gaining a knowledge of self so that we don’t fall victim to (or engage in) black-on-black violence, police brutality, mass incarceration, and self-annihilation? Who among us will show us that even though our fathers lacked the capacity to teach us how to be real men, we still can learn to be courageous in overcoming systemic racism, oppression and genocide; that we still can grow and mature to become a honor to our mother, an excellent husband to our wives, a shinning example to our children and a blessing to our community?
With the days days of Malcolm X, Marcus Garvey and Huey P. Newton long gone, what inspirational revolutionary black leaders remain who can show and teach us how to love, embrace and respect our blackness?
The constant feeling of not progressing in racist Amerikkka causes us much frustration and rage. So we vent our frustration and rage on our black brother and murder him in cold blood because of a petty dispute and we degrade and abuse our black women, treating her as nothing more than a temporary fix for our sexual desires, leaving behind a long trail of children who will grow up never feeling the affection that can come from a father because we never received such affection from our own. So our children must suffer because we suffered, and the cycle repeats itself perpetually. UNTIL WE BREAK IT!
Look at us young black youth with our pants hung low as if to say we will always be down and out. Now is the time to pull them (and ourselves) up!