Several years ago (over a decade now that I think about it), I wrote a small collection of poetry that seemed to flow effortlessly. A lot of it was relationship-based. Yet, one day I decided to write a poem based on what I perceived an adult Black man may feel living in the United States. This was written over a decade ago, however, the murders of Trayvon Martin and Jordan Davis make this poem seem a bit quaint in comparison to current events. To more accurately reflect today’s reality, I should probably change the title to “A Target in my Skin.”
Please note, this IS officially copyrighted material…
A Victim in my Skin
To hear you and the media tell it, I’ve done it all
From raping a woman to shoplifting at the mall.
I walk around everyday just trying to mind my own
But naww, you just can’t seem to leave me alone.
You pull my car over in the middle of the night
With a bad drawing of someone I don’t even look like.
You follow me around when I shop in your store
As if I want what I can afford and a lil’ sumthin more.
When I walk down the street on a quiet, dark night
You hold your purse tighter and step quickly in fright.
How many days and nights have I innocently spent in prison or jail,
Because when it comes to us, the justice system continues to fail?
The picture you paint is always “perpetrator of the crime”
But really all you see is the brown skin, time after time.
Have I lost my right to a judge and jury because of my melanin tone?
Or, are all of my rights forsaken and just plain gon’?
Even when I present a polished, professional look and hold my head high
When the raises, promotions and opportunities are passed out, I’m passed by.
I matriculated and earned my Bachelor’s degree, Master’s degree and Ph.D.
But with all that said and done, even I must live in fear of the LAPD.
I ask the question, when will the painful racism end,
And I can stop being a victim in my skin?