Sterling Notes Newsletter | Volume 9 Issue 2 by Sterling Notes

I 2015-2016 SABES Executive Board: • Celina Brown • Octavias Barnes

Sterling Notes

• Nicholas Sheppard

• ‘s_••_

• Chelsea Anderson

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• TamekaAmado • Jenelle Davis ‘----A

• Clara Romeo

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• Alexis Grant

• Aidan Keys

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inside this Issue 1

D1CK IS...

face of racist assault are

By Angel Dye i i Reaunaant By Mansur Kwame Rashid

“Blackbird” By Alex Jones

“OK, Ladies Now Let’s Get in Formation” By Sydney Pol lock

“Howard Daize Student Spot light” By Tierra Holmes

“Season’s Revelations”

“At Twilight Hour

“

“All our silences in the acts of complicity.” -bell hooks

•1

Howard University’s motto is “Truth and Service.” Many of us think that living this out may be done by working to better communities that are the victims of systematic discrimination, whether that be through healthcare, law, policy, or education. We can also do this through art. The works in this edition represent Howard University’s commitment to unapologetically proclaiming truths across communities. It is a service to give voice to the silenced. Thank you to all of the artists who have slaved over their works, know ing the high stakes of speaking truth in ways that are uplifting and progres sive. Art is a way to express the emotions associated with police brutality and the Black Lives Matter Movement. It is a way to declare truth in a form of ser vice. Keep using your pens to give words to unspeakable tragedies and to give voice to those who do not have the opportunity to speak. This is art. Don’t stop creating. —Jenelle Davis, Sterling Notes Co-Editor and Alexis Grant, Sterling Notes Editorial Assistant

#NP (Black Lives Matter- On Repeat)

#NP (Black Uves Matter- On Repeat)-cont

By: Jalisa Goodwin B.L.M. It is the acronym Used to reaffirm our own value Black Lives Matter I’s speak it So it can be seen In a world that feigns blindness to oppression of anyone outside of one’s own Immediate circle or friend list Where indifference to injustice being inflicted on your own next door neighbor is imminent because it is none of your business where history repeats on repeat utitil ii has depleted all of your energy history ili.it l)t’.ltS lt 0111 backs 11111 I we (IIIIiIl)le ii (lele,lt the purpose of our excruciating existence is resistance to provocation police brutality pressure pressed against the back of Black necks like body armor attached to sweat Black Lives Matter Recitation causes elevation to voices that have been systematically silenced, manipulated to the point of mutation muted and made to manifest silent screams that bounce between the walls of these sound proof cages Black Lives Matter pastel pink that flushes white faces the realization that Black IS

more than just their least favorite color most oppressed class of minorities is Unimportant The point is not negation We aint got no time to be wastin Carrying on conflict with another race about the contradictory aspects of the denial of our humanity This aint no test we aint competing for the right to being called the most oppressed. This has nothing to do with that Black Lives Matter Is for Somebody’s Somebody to know that they are more than just some bodies blotting sidewalks and side streets in every single city sitting on sidelines while primetime television replays the slaughter of someone’s son swimming in a pool of plasma inherited from the people who will mourn my death while ones who profess to protect and serve receive no consequence for causing a death they truly believe I deserved Black Lives Matter Dr. Gregory Carr will have you convinced Africana is the only way of knowing that exists Dr. Mario Beatty will make you a believer of what he himself knows to be true; Kemet lives in you Egyptian inscriptions are inscribed on your Divine DNA

Dr. Angela Davis can enlighten you on the effects of the prison industry complex on our communities Dr. Valethia Watkins will remind you that the Black woman is God herself a reminder to operate within one’s own wealth Black Lives Matter April Goggans will march through every side street in southeast shout it in the face of the most racist police Aaron Goggans will construct a think piece make you rethink every lie you’ve ever been made to believe Erika Totten can cleanse your consciousness of all the corruptness you’ve become accustomed to Ask Omolara and Chi Chi They will tell you what they told me All Black Lives Matter Including those who identify transexually Our queer family That seemingly exists on our own hemisphere Understand intersectionality Understand we are here Do not marginalize us Our stories Can not be silenced We are Each other’s home Make room Black Lives Matter Mamie Till would have told you What it feels like To not recognize the face of your first-born bloated and bruised cut and carved into an unrecognizable shape Ask Sybrina Fulton whether she has grown

accustomed to not kissing her son at night Ask Leslie McSpadden what it felt like on Mike’s graduation day Ask Dominika Stanley What she had planned for Aiyana’s 8th birthday? Ask Tatiana Grant who will escort her to the Daddy-Daughter dance? Ask Esaw Garner Which of her children is hardest to look at Because she see in their eyes the image of her late husband Looking back Addle Mae, Denise, Carole, and Cynthia cannot say so Because they never made it to Sunday Service on September 15th 1963 at 16th street Baptist church But if you go to Shadow Lane Cemetery And hold your head close against one of their headstones You will know Black Lives Matter Say it LOUD Enough to make Willie Lynch flinch Allow Jim Crow to cringe Comprehend The message is for us Not to forget From us I have asked All of our Ancestors Affirmed Recorded their responses This is my rendition On repeat

#NP (Black Lives Matter- On Repeat)

#NP (Black Uves Matter- On Repeat)-cont

V —

Pag. 5

Black IL..

IAmThatiAm

By: Angel Dye

By Rachel Kersey

Black is the new black The old black Always black to black and back to black It’s back to that

The propeller spins,

Blacker the black the sweeter the black Not the deeper the lack or the cheaper the crack Not the triller the trap but the iller the rap Not the breaking of backs or the deafening of gats Not bruises and slaps or sippin on yac We be so black we much more than just that

Stings my cheeks and nose,

We colorfully rainbow black “MADE WITH MELANIN” and “HANDLE WITH CARE” inscribed in our tats What a time to be black History, mystery, present, future, past We he that, that brown, down, cool, classic black When the world ends we’ll still be around after that True black, bold black, best black, so black BUY BLACK Don’t try black Suntan, cornrows, or artificial dye black Don’t lie on black, deny black, then when it’s convenient rely on black You gotta be born black, not just adorned in black Beneath phenotype or “you talk white” you be black be cause it’s on the inside You can’t look at black and decide that only a wide nose and naps constitute black There’s so much more to it than that It’s bone deep and erected in our backs

Pushed along by northern winds. Force invisible

Fearfully and Wonderfully By: Angel Dye

Knotted spirals coil around a coiffed and cropped crown Brown folds crease and cover nighttime windows Strong bridge beacon glides down to widened gateways Malleable pieces meet and part at softened center and cautious corners Fortified base holds meticulously placed parts upright

Slaps me red, and dewy eyes Proclaim discomfort.

Pigmented chrysalis adorns brittle but burgeoning framework Tenacious frame encases raw and ready oxygenated members

Sight failed, I flailed once,

Reach extends from resting position outward to greet waiting worlds

Twice, thrice—I ceased my counting.

Curved and substantial anchors ground beginning and middle

Yahweh mystifies.

Lead oars wade in pursuit of passage

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Gracious Maker,

Biceps Can Be Garrote. By: Jabari Mallory You can see something isn’t right

The job is well done.

Charcoal By: Jabari Mallory

How our gun-toting defenders Got barrels on us

My ancestors built countries in chains.

Thugs behind a badge

Ripped up out of Africa

Blood dripping on grass

Sailed sardine packed across a sea

And Stand Your Ground acting as a murder pass. Choke-held to oblivion

So stop trying to show you black and get to know black Like really sow into black, grow more spiritual and soul ful black Be noble black and don’t let no one control yo black

A man immortalized

You say you’ve met God and she’s black Well did she tell you that every color mixed together be comes black? You should be proud and own that: no hue gets its name without paying homage to black, and within you... you got all of that.

Can’t

Begging his last breath

Breath

•

.: -

‘. -

Made to cut cane, pick peaches

Hard hands and scarred backs built Cultures copied on every continent

Minds firing fever-hot put plans into effect

Blood welled through pens

Poverty-fueled pyrexia got my grandmother here

Became plays, poems, prose

Her daughter

Pain rang out

My mother

Molded by thirsty throats into something beautiful

Brought me up in the ways of heat

Desperation drove

Head held high, I’m heir to a kingdom

Pushed people into education, deception

Carrying a torch in a centuries long race

Black letters in stark contrast with white back ground.

V —

Pag. 5

Black IL..

IAmThatiAm

By: Angel Dye

By Rachel Kersey

Black is the new black The old black Always black to black and back to black It’s back to that

The propeller spins,

Stings my cheeks and nose,

Pushed along by northern winds. Force invisible

Fearfully and Wonderfully By: Angel Dye

Slaps me red, and dewy eyes Proclaim discomfort.

Pigmented chrysalis adorns brittle but burgeoning framework Tenacious frame encases raw and ready oxygenated members

Sight failed, I flailed once,

Reach extends from resting position outward to greet waiting worlds

Twice, thrice—I ceased my counting.

Curved and substantial anchors ground beginning and middle

Yahweh mystifies.

Lead oars wade in pursuit of passage

https//s-media.cache.akO.pinimgcom/236x/Od/15/

Gracious Maker,

Biceps Can Be Garrote. By: Jabari Mallory You can see something isn’t right

The job is well done.

Charcoal By: Jabari Mallory

How our gun-toting defenders Got barrels on us

My ancestors built countries in chains.

Thugs behind a badge

Ripped up out of Africa

Blood dripping on grass

Sailed sardine packed across a sea

And Stand Your Ground acting as a murder pass. Choke-held to oblivion

So stop trying to show you black and get to know black Like really sow into black, grow more spiritual and soul ful black Be noble black and don’t let no one control yo black

A man immortalized

Can’t

Begging his last breath

Breath

•

.: -

‘. -

Made to cut cane, pick peaches

Hard hands and scarred backs built Cultures copied on every continent

Minds firing fever-hot put plans into effect

Blood welled through pens

Poverty-fueled pyrexia got my grandmother here

Became plays, poems, prose

Her daughter

Pain rang out

My mother

Molded by thirsty throats into something beautiful

Brought me up in the ways of heat

Desperation drove

Head held high, I’m heir to a kingdom

Pushed people into education, deception

Carrying a torch in a centuries long race

Black letters in stark contrast with white back ground.

Page 7

Brand of Frdom

Poetry

By: Tahirah L. Williams

By: Jahvon Spencer-Newell

We removed the shackles from our ankles,

When you White collar, You get Full scholarships, When u Blue collar

So they placed them around our heads. We didn’t program our minds,

cops think ya collar crip (tonight), Praying for Superman Singing Kendrick out my lips (Alright).

So with lies, they did the programming themselves. They knew with knowledge we would be unfit to be slaves, So they drowned us with distractions, implanting desires for the latest craze. They can’t allow us to become “too smart for our own good” Because we just might start thinking we deserve better, as all people should.

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We look into the mirror not liking the face we see We try to narrow, straighten, and lighten, Hoping the reflection will look less like us and more like she. She, that image on the cover of that book of perfection and lies, That book that makes a little girl lock herself in a lonely bathroom where she cuts and cries. In a crowd we look for moments to put people at ease, Assuring them that we aren’t as black as we seem. “My great, great, great grandfather was Scottish, yes indeed.” “You are pretty for a black girl.” Our faces light up with smiles, as we sheepishly say, “Thank you, I got it from my mother’s side,” Not quite understanding what that statement had implied. Divide and conquer! They divide not themselves but another, Us being the other. Degree of blackness started to emerge. We start noticing that our curls aren’t as tight as hers. They opened the cage of freedom and told us we were free. Should have known it was a lie, not freedom, but a different brand of slavery.

Shot you outta fear and then say sorry, But the LIFE gone, game over no Atari, So I put my dreams where the stars be, We can go far see, somewhere out where Mars be.

It’s not the same country that they sold me in But regardless I won’t fall short...Napoleon Tryna make bars that hold meanin

Figured out why they don’t like me, Howard life a movie anyway no Spike Lee, Make it past 25? They say less than likely,

while they try to make bars to hold me in Cuz being Black means you already lost Country they sold you in and you paid the cost But I’ll be the compass going in an upward direction Malcolm X by any means which means no discretion

regardless imma just do it call that thing Nike. They stay scheming always plottin, Pay taxes for the same jail you rot in, Said alotof facts but hear something truer,

HU has the knowledge just go pursue her. Loot the local deli when they tell me they shot my brother Burn the neighborhood down when I hear the cries of a mother Everybody crippled overflowing with blood While I’m like Noah on his arc looking down at the flood How disgusting I feel the tears dripping Lack of progress because we are set tripping They say the blacker the berry the sweeter the juice But the blacker the skin, the tighter the noose I gotta make it out the hood for that reason System suffocating but for Eric Garner I keep breathin’ Too much blood is spillin It’s a disease and I’m penicillin These the same people marching for Trayvon End up in prison. Blame the system and slave on. I don’t know the lies you tellin em These lies you sellin em They see a felon and it’s just the melanin. //TU.LLLCU

tumblr_nfnrfuvRL2lqcloklol_400.jpg

Page 7

Brand of Frdom

Poetry

By: Tahirah L. Williams

By: Jahvon Spencer-Newell

We removed the shackles from our ankles,

When you White collar, You get Full scholarships, When u Blue collar

So they placed them around our heads. We didn’t program our minds,

cops think ya collar crip (tonight), Praying for Superman Singing Kendrick out my lips (Alright).

d55d433O677d23fb7O7866d2751b.jpg

Shot you outta fear and then say sorry, But the LIFE gone, game over no Atari, So I put my dreams where the stars be, We can go far see, somewhere out where Mars be.

It’s not the same country that they sold me in But regardless I won’t fall short...Napoleon Tryna make bars that hold meanin

Figured out why they don’t like me, Howard life a movie anyway no Spike Lee, Make it past 25? They say less than likely,

regardless imma just do it call that thing Nike. They stay scheming always plottin, Pay taxes for the same jail you rot in, Said alotof facts but hear something truer,

tumblr_nfnrfuvRL2lqcloklol_400.jpg

Redundant

GENTRIFICATION

By: Mansur Kwame Rashid It’s the same damn story every time. Take ‘em. Slave ‘em. Free ‘em. Freedom. Fight for their rights. And then chain them up again. Call it protecting “citizens.” AKA “new slavery.” My past lives are starting to take effect. Starting to feel a shameless déjà vu. Wishing for a new one every time but it’s the same storm. I feel like I’m redundant. I knew you could be redundant in speech. I didn’t know you could be redundant in form. I feel like I’m writing on pages in history.

Tierra Holmes But instead of a clean page each time, We’re just making corrections. Grammatical mishaps in the way we wear our pants. Misplaced commas with misplaced babies. Nonexistent agreeing verbiage like the nonexistent father fad. Crossed out words like crossed out knowledge... I feel redundant. I didn’t know redundancy could come in form. I feel like my blackness, my colored flesh has already been worn. Like these eyes have already seen death. These hands are moist and soft with my brothers’ blood. My skin smooth from my sisters’ tears. This body, this flesh has been worn before.

Mr. B. Franklin is creeping closer and closer to my grandmother’s window. He is trying to steal some of her apple pie. It sits on her window sill cooling off everybody sees him coming. He is coming from some short miles away with his bright ideas and his green leaves. He thinks pies should be sold closer to his home and not on grandmother’s window sill. The commute is much too far for his corporate legs to bare. So he thinks grandmother should leave her pies and move farther away from the people she may disturb--his people. Or, she should sell her window sill with the pies so that he can make his corporate office closer to her newly bought home. It started off with the window sill and then he wanted the entire place. Mr. B. Franklin is creeping through the bushes, looking at the children play. He is dreaming of a new apartment complex to sit on top of their basketball court Mr. B. Franklin is bringing city hall closer to your doorstep. We better pray for the Old City.

What Now? By: John Blakley

Is Being Black a Fault? What now? What should be done? I need to act, my time has already begun. I’m tired of waiting for someone else to save the day. So, I’ve decided to stand, and to bring justice our way.

By: Sumit Dhungel Tamir Rice, he was a small child How can anyone think a baby boy will be so wild? November 22, 2014, was the day A fatal mistake, and it took Tamir away.

I’ve sat in complacency for way too long. So easy it is for me to forget whose shoulders I am on. There is a war going on, and I need to be on the battlefield. History of the past is my helmet, expectancy for the future is my shield.

Tamir Rice, he is never coming back Why? Because the color of his skin was black. Believe me, this was his only mistake Because the gun he had, it was just a fake

I’ve been silent, but now is my time to speak. I must emphasize the issues plaguing the Black community. Right now, I have to write about this current time and space. I have to exclaim, “Black Lives Matter!” I must show concern for my race.

They said every human being is born equal But the story of Tamir, it was just another sequel Of a series of violence going on for many years Walter Scott, Freddie Gray, their story still brings me tears We have had enough, now this discrimination must stop Please, don’t let any more blood drop I have one dream, I have one plea Each and every American must be born free. Please don’t let any more like Tamir die Please don’t force any more mothers to cry Please don’t let any more dreams to shatter Because the thing is, Black lives do Matter.

d6a1c871d5 1 k86(07,OSc,92b69b0a1.jpg

I am a part of an inter-generational movement I am an agent of change. I am proudly holding my fist outward. I’m showing support, not being “strange.” I can be what I want to be. I can do what I want to do. I’m a black man, and my savior, Jesus, was, too. http://wavenewspapers.com/wpS content/uploads/20 15/05/TamirRice.jpg

I will not accept the lies and dispositions of this country. I will work night and day until I find what’s needed: solidarity. I will continue to sing songs of freedom, I will reiterate words of peace. I won’t be still, until black is accepted fully. -

Well, looks like I have plenty of work cut out for me, I must get started. Thank God for those who came before me, and the lessons they’ve imparted. I know what to say and, now, I know what to do. I have a dream, and so should you.

Redundant

GENTRIFICATION

What Now? By: John Blakley

By: Sumit Dhungel Tamir Rice, he was a small child How can anyone think a baby boy will be so wild? November 22, 2014, was the day A fatal mistake, and it took Tamir away.

Tamir Rice, he is never coming back Why? Because the color of his skin was black. Believe me, this was his only mistake Because the gun he had, it was just a fake

d6a1c871d5 1 k86(07,OSc,92b69b0a1.jpg

A Trip to the Portrait Gallery By: Angel Dye

Untitled The Exploitation of a Black Warrior

By: Breeze

Black mass d a n ce S

By: Paul A. Hoiston

YOU

Strokes then landing High knees, on point Soles thudding Flex, extend, retract Wind whips spirals around center

Sacrifice requires Decisions that are not comfortable. The Journey of Finding One’s Purpose is not easy. Who’s to say that giving up things that you love is impossible? It is leaving people you love and things not meant for you; those are the hardest Decisions.

Amidst the ships Against the drift Deemed the queens misfits Equipped the wrists with

Saying goodbye to friends, kissing your loved ones one more time; Calling your father who has never been there for you in your lifetime, To tell him that by tomorrow you will not be able to call from a normal land line.

binding Fists met the resists

ollapse rch strikes block for clarity and precision pace tot blank

And where there were ebony ankles You placed shackles Now called slaves

Enveloping limber and willing limbs ones bite against skin for revelation rt emerges from soul matrimony Soul bears world-heavy density Feet marshal repetitive intensity Ears inclines for spirit awakening

When once fought Zulu battles

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And replaced plantain yellow With the smell, oh, of Vomiting infant men and named it

The country that you were born and raised in thanks you, but deep down, you don’t feel the pride. You know the Truth because it hurts, but inside, the ugly Truth will hide. Sacrifice...you sacrifice your life, your dignity, your psychological mind. And yet, most do not know what you must do to stay alive. Black Soldier...you know your place and know your time. But when will you decide that being Radical and Revolutionary will surely save your life? Black Soldier, Black Soldier, Black Soldier. Whose side are you on? Are you for your country ‘tis of thee or for the Bloodline within you that brings true Liberty?

“Your Africa” But baby,

pLiT

You’re Africa So eat the lashes of the whip Un-slick your ponytails

[T] imeless. [R] evolutionary. [Uj nderground. [1] Always [P]ositive.

And let your wild hair adorn you Thick coarse ropes of ebony That from the day you were born, you Were told to perm And know that you’re pretty Even if your pretty white Barbie doll Doesn’t have the same color skin As the melanin you’ve been placed in Because your skin Is the seed that bears the mangoes, And the beat of djembe drum Your gem is one That was placed by the sun Inside of the earth httpj/teleky.com/Prodlmages/BT5724.jpg

For safekeeping.

https://s-rnediacache akO.pinimg.com/236il38/34/7d/38347db958c5d 61c4c27f6b866092.jpg

A Trip to the Portrait Gallery By: Angel Dye

Untitled The Exploitation of a Black Warrior

By: Breeze

Black mass d a n ce S

By: Paul A. Hoiston

YOU

Strokes then landing High knees, on point Soles thudding Flex, extend, retract Wind whips spirals around center

Amidst the ships Against the drift Deemed the queens misfits Equipped the wrists with

binding Fists met the resists

ollapse rch strikes block for clarity and precision pace tot blank

And where there were ebony ankles You placed shackles Now called slaves

When once fought Zulu battles

https//ibiswwe.fiIes.wordpres,.c,,n,J2O14/O wpid-bIck.flower-queer-eLi-Iescot.jpg

And replaced plantain yellow With the smell, oh, of Vomiting infant men and named it

“Your Africa” But baby,

pLiT

You’re Africa So eat the lashes of the whip Un-slick your ponytails

[T] imeless. [R] evolutionary. [Uj nderground. [1] Always [P]ositive.

For safekeeping.

https://s-rnediacache akO.pinimg.com/236il38/34/7d/38347db958c5d 61c4c27f6b866092.jpg

V Pag.12

Pag.13

Untitled

The Set Up

By Dywanye’ Washington

By: Dywanye’ Washington

The day that I fell in love with orange cream sickle lollipop s and cherry Coca-Cola was the same day that I fell in love with the way Dripping sestets around my fortress when she comes to me

you picked pickles off your burger to save them for last

Yemoja begs to partake of a stanza or two

On our walk home, I fell in love with the way our hands unconsciously found each other’s and swung in time with our foot steps

Why would I deny my mother? As I hand her my essence, it cools

Under the oak trees, you kissed me in front of my left ear My breath stopped

“Never hand over your essence!” I remember. Yet there she is, devouring me. Feelings of stupidity drown out my universe

htrp//ar1antablackstarcom/wp-contentJ uploads/20 15/0 l/JuanitaYoung-painthigZ.jpg

Even as her face colors with my affections

Somewhere in between discarded lollipop wrappers and treasured pickle slices, I realized that I am in love with the familiarity of your company and the carefulness of your movements oiIacry1kvarn,hcanv,,V741741/25C/25O/SUMMRLOVE.jpg

But I am not in love with you.

can See You Now

By: John Blakley Out the eyes of my heart, I look at you. Now, I am stunned by your greatness. I’m no longer looking with my natural sight, in which ‘love” was presented as an empty bleakness.

Flint

These eyes help me visualize the good in the bad. These eyes give me empathy to share in an experience you might’ve had. Yes, you have some flaws; but with these eyes, I cannot see. Everyone is equal. Yes, including you and me.

The poison lingers.

By: Keenah Mays

No longer in the water, Only in my veins.

Your outward appearance has no true value to me. My sight doesn’t scan the outside. Instead, it looks internally. You maybe of different race; you may even be of different creed. But, God created us both. Yes he did, indeed. Oh, if you could only see the power you possess inside. The beauty, the poise, the strength in the cavities of your heart, they hide. As soon as I look at you, a compliment comes to mind. The perfection of your inner being begins to rise and shine.

No gunshots heard here. http://www.freep.com/story/news/1ocaL/michigan/2O16/01/16/ president-obama-declares-emergency1lint/78898604/

When they killed us, they did so

Slowly. Quietly.

People often ask me, “How do you get along so swell?” Well, it’s because I had eye surgery. And, it went extremely well.

V Pag.12

Pag.13

Untitled

The Set Up

By Dywanye’ Washington

By: Dywanye’ Washington

The day that I fell in love with orange cream sickle lollipop s and cherry Coca-Cola was the same day that I fell in love with the way Dripping sestets around my fortress when she comes to me

you picked pickles off your burger to save them for last

Yemoja begs to partake of a stanza or two

On our walk home, I fell in love with the way our hands unconsciously found each other’s and swung in time with our foot steps

Why would I deny my mother? As I hand her my essence, it cools

Under the oak trees, you kissed me in front of my left ear My breath stopped

“Never hand over your essence!” I remember. Yet there she is, devouring me. Feelings of stupidity drown out my universe

htrp//ar1antablackstarcom/wp-contentJ uploads/20 15/0 l/JuanitaYoung-painthigZ.jpg

Even as her face colors with my affections

But I am not in love with you.

can See You Now

By: John Blakley Out the eyes of my heart, I look at you. Now, I am stunned by your greatness. I’m no longer looking with my natural sight, in which ‘love” was presented as an empty bleakness.

Flint

The poison lingers.

By: Keenah Mays

No longer in the water, Only in my veins.

No gunshots heard here. http://www.freep.com/story/news/1ocaL/michigan/2O16/01/16/ president-obama-declares-emergency1lint/78898604/

When they killed us, they did so

Slowly. Quietly.

People often ask me, “How do you get along so swell?” Well, it’s because I had eye surgery. And, it went extremely well.

National Anthem

3lackbird

By: Keenah Mays

By: Alex Jones Why you wanna fly, Blackbird?

My body tenses in anticipation,

A little girl with brown skin looks but doesn’t dare touch.

You ain’t ever gonna fly

My hands shake in my lap.

She can, after all, read the sign.

I clasp them together

And the rockets’red glare, the bombs bursting in air

As if in prayer.

A boy of seventeen runs from a canister of tear gas.

The announcer’s voice comes over the speakers,

His father told him to stay at home.

“And now, please rise for our national anthem.”

But like his mother,

The stands shudder with the near unanimous motion.

Who fled from fire hoses meant to put out the flames in her soul,

Cowering inside the cage in my mind I can’t help but to cry Cause all my worries and frustration Anxiety and desperation Consume me till I begin to question my own crea tion Spiraling deeper and deeper into total isolation

I force myself to rise, a heartbeat or two behind the crowd. http//www.kiiasirocom/images/va/4OO6_web.jpg

Placing my right hand over my heart As if to shield it.

Waves of self-pity drown me Help

Why you wanna fly, Blackbird?

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn early light

Please

You ain’t ever gonna fly

I close my eyes as images begin to wreak havoc on my mind.

I need resuscitation

But you know what, I think I can do this

What so proudly we hailed at the twilights last gleaming?

All I can do is try

The sun lies in wait below the African horizon.

Why you wanna fly, Blackbird?

I want to feel the air under my wings

You ain’t ever gonna fly

And to see all the beautiful things

“Break free,” it said

That only true freedom from my mind can bring

“Tell this old cage goodbye”

Eyes open and welcome the start of a new day. They do not see the Portuguese ships arriving in the dis tance. Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight

He would not listen. Gave proofthrough the night that ourflag was still there A flag flaps in the cool South Carolinian breeze, A southern cross meant to remind us That even a church Can bleed. O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave An attorney gives a final wave to the crowd of reporters. The words “NO INDICTMENT” echo through the air. As do the words “AGAIN?”

Cause I know why that caged bird sings

Three-fifths of a man falls to his knees.

I’m leaving this place behind This place of constant pain has become my do main

Streaks of blood line his back like tally marks.

I’m so ready now

He blinks the stars from his eyes

As I open my eyes the singer closes hers, focusing on the high note.

I’m addicted to this feeling

To this cage I no longer cling

And fights the desire to lay down

If she focused on the words,

And die.

She would choke on them.

Don’t you wanna fly Blackbird

O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?

And the home ofthe brave!

Just step out of your cage and try.

On a hot summer afternoon,

The crowd erupts.

But how do I even begin to loose these chains?

Like a fiend feeling the cocaine rushing through her veins You’re right, I gotta go I think it’s time to fly

O’er the land of the free

A blond-haired boy takes a long drink from a water fountain. And I collapse.

But yet, I still remain

National Anthem

3lackbird

By: Keenah Mays

By: Alex Jones Why you wanna fly, Blackbird?

My body tenses in anticipation,

A little girl with brown skin looks but doesn’t dare touch.

You ain’t ever gonna fly

My hands shake in my lap.

She can, after all, read the sign.

I clasp them together

And the rockets’red glare, the bombs bursting in air

As if in prayer.

A boy of seventeen runs from a canister of tear gas.

The announcer’s voice comes over the speakers,

His father told him to stay at home.

“And now, please rise for our national anthem.”

But like his mother,

The stands shudder with the near unanimous motion.

Who fled from fire hoses meant to put out the flames in her soul,

I force myself to rise, a heartbeat or two behind the crowd. http//www.kiiasirocom/images/va/4OO6_web.jpg

Placing my right hand over my heart As if to shield it.

Waves of self-pity drown me Help

Why you wanna fly, Blackbird?

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn early light

Please

You ain’t ever gonna fly

I close my eyes as images begin to wreak havoc on my mind.

I need resuscitation

But you know what, I think I can do this

What so proudly we hailed at the twilights last gleaming?

All I can do is try

The sun lies in wait below the African horizon.

Why you wanna fly, Blackbird?

I want to feel the air under my wings

You ain’t ever gonna fly

And to see all the beautiful things

“Break free,” it said

That only true freedom from my mind can bring

“Tell this old cage goodbye”

Eyes open and welcome the start of a new day. They do not see the Portuguese ships arriving in the dis tance. Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight

Cause I know why that caged bird sings

Three-fifths of a man falls to his knees.

I’m leaving this place behind This place of constant pain has become my do main

Streaks of blood line his back like tally marks.

I’m so ready now

He blinks the stars from his eyes

As I open my eyes the singer closes hers, focusing on the high note.

I’m addicted to this feeling

To this cage I no longer cling

And fights the desire to lay down

If she focused on the words,

And die.

She would choke on them.

Don’t you wanna fly Blackbird

O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?

And the home ofthe brave!

Just step out of your cage and try.

On a hot summer afternoon,

The crowd erupts.

But how do I even begin to loose these chains?

Like a fiend feeling the cocaine rushing through her veins You’re right, I gotta go I think it’s time to fly

O’er the land of the free

A blond-haired boy takes a long drink from a water fountain. And I collapse.

But yet, I still remain

Sterling Nc: Page 17

OK, Ladies, Now Let’s Get in Formation—cont. However, not every viewer understands or agrees with the message of Beyoncé’s video. One critic, Jeff Guo of the Washington Post, discusses what he calls a contradiction of interests—having Beyoncé take a stand against the insti tutionalized racism and corruption of the Katrina disaster by drowning in the waters as a woman who was raised in a middle-class family and who now is extremely wealthy. However, this stance is extremely toxic within the Black com munity. Beyoncé, no matter how wealthy she is, is still a Black woman who can stand with victims of unacceptable cir cumstances, regardless of her financial situation. Other critics, such as Ben Shapiro of the Daily Wire, take issue with the non-inclusiveness of the song. Shapiro acknowledges her proclamation of love for Black features and the images in the videos and “Black Panthers” theme of her Super Bowl performance. However, Shapiro’s criticism comes from ignorance about the history of the Black Power Movement and the Black Panthers. Beyoncé’s “Formation” includes lyrics and images that are extremely important to the resurgence of Black pow er. Although people are entitled to their opinions, they should be sure that their opinions are not rooted in ignorance or arrogance. Some critics of Beyoncé may have points. However, we must be careful to not try to discredit her Blackness or her experience or to show our lack of knowledge on a topic in the process.

OK, Ladles, Now Lat’s Get In Formation

Works Cited

By: Sydney Pollock

On February 6 2016, Beyoncè did one of the things she does best: she broke the Internet.

“Formation.’ Beyonce. N.p., n.d. Web. 04 Apr. 2016. r This time

vas a new music video and single that created major buzz in the social media and entertainment world. Her video, Formation”, featured several controversial images, including a drowning police car and a young boy in hoodie dancing

Guo, Jeff. “The Strange Contradiction in Beyoncé’s New Song ‘Formation’.” Washington Post. Washington Post, 9 Feb. 2016. Web. 22 Feb. 2016. Shapiro, Ben. “Beyonce’s Racist Super Bowl Ass-Shaking Routine Pays Homage to Malcolm X, Black Panthers.” The Daily Wire. Np., 2 Feb. 645°. Web. 67 Feb. 645°.

front of a row of police officers in SWAT gear. The response to the video included conversations about Black power, apitalism, and the importance of iconography. Some critics found the video opportunistic, non-inclusive, and hyper i.

exualized, while others saw it as a triumphant anthem for Black women across the nation. Beyonce’s “Formation” is a ideo that should be viewed as an important piece of art that captured the essence of the young Black women of 2016. Beyoncè’s “Formation” music video opens with Beyoncè standing on top of a New Orleans police car followed y varied shots of New Orleans. The first voice you hear is not that of the Queen Bey herself but of the late Messy Maya,

5/100 “Musings of Ancestry” By: Rasheed Copeland I. My parents met under a burnt spoon. They were a slow dancing flame

n icon in the New Orleans bounce music community. Beyoncè does not begin the video with her voice but with the oice of a New Orleans native. From the start of her video, she establishes a that this will be a song for the people to

who’s love is survived by both my left feet.

thorn she is paying respect. The song then officially begins with the first line, “Y’all haters corny with that Illurninati

I know not of any other times.

tess,”. The image on screen then switches to Beyoncè dressed a white gown reminiscent of the slave era in the United tates. She continues to sing, referencing her gown from the Metropolitan Ball. The song picks up with a combination

Have never seen my face outside of theirs.

I am one of the times the broken clock was right.

Have no clue of who gave my mother

f Beyoncé’s dance choreography in one of her signature leotards and more of the plantation fashion. This section of ie video also includes a shot of her daughter, Blue Ivy, running around with two other Black girls in white dresses

the eyes she handed down to me.

-ith their afros growing towards the skies. During this sequence, Beyoncè sings the lines, “I like my baby hair with ha

But I know there is something

hairs and afros/ I like my negro nose with Jackson 5 nostrils,” addressing the criticism of both her daughter’s and r husband’s appearances. This celebratory line is important because Beyonce’s stature in the entertainment industry

past what was left standing

so public. The video continues with similar images and with Beyoncé and her dancers getting in formation. The video

and maybe it is way back when.

)ntrnues with the choreography and shows a young boy dancing before a line of SWAT officers and making them put

Before God even learned English

Leir hands up in surrender—an homage to “Hands Up, Don’t Shoot.” In the final shot of the video, Beyoncé drowns on ‘p of the police car in the streets of New Orleans, demonstrating solidarity and making sure her viewers know that we

When he was still speaking in drum

once all the crack smoke cleared,

the way my heart do.

II. Even if I were to chop down every poplar and believe each ring to be a wide open mouth telling me stories in a southern drawl about how I got family who’s necks they’ve known biblically, Am I to accept this as my entire story? Am I to forget all the times I was little when my daddy’s chest was a conch I’d fit to my ear to hear an ocean of towns people singing songs in waterlogged harmony about how some of them had gills before others ever had wings?

e all one and that we are all victims in some form.

Sterling Nc: Page 17

OK, Ladles, Now Lat’s Get In Formation

Works Cited

By: Sydney Pollock

On February 6 2016, Beyoncè did one of the things she does best: she broke the Internet.

“Formation.’ Beyonce. N.p., n.d. Web. 04 Apr. 2016. r This time

5/100 “Musings of Ancestry” By: Rasheed Copeland I. My parents met under a burnt spoon. They were a slow dancing flame

who’s love is survived by both my left feet.

thorn she is paying respect. The song then officially begins with the first line, “Y’all haters corny with that Illurninati

I know not of any other times.

Have never seen my face outside of theirs.

I am one of the times the broken clock was right.

Have no clue of who gave my mother

the eyes she handed down to me.

-ith their afros growing towards the skies. During this sequence, Beyoncè sings the lines, “I like my baby hair with ha

But I know there is something

past what was left standing

so public. The video continues with similar images and with Beyoncé and her dancers getting in formation. The video

and maybe it is way back when.

)ntrnues with the choreography and shows a young boy dancing before a line of SWAT officers and making them put

Before God even learned English

When he was still speaking in drum

once all the crack smoke cleared,

the way my heart do.

e all one and that we are all victims in some form.

I Ramsteln

I Am From

By Rachel Kersey My boots step over the soggy leaves And sink deep into the dark, brown mud. Up ahead, she scampers over a fallen log. The soft, fleshy pads on the bottom of her paws scrape against the mossy bark. The rain falls softly, silently in the abandoned wood. I pull my hood up to cover my head. The brim falls over my downcast eyes, But I am not lost The green chain-link fence is everywhere, An ever-present barrier between the nations. We trod through the footpaths together, Up the hills and over the ridge to my high school. I stood there for fire drills. My friends had class in that adjunct building. But the grounds are childless now. I have never seen these places from this angle. Behind the evergreen curtains, I stand nostalgically. We run through parking lots, Jaywalk and dodge the branches. I traverse new terrain in a familiar land. Cool grey mist covers the treetops as we tramp among the shrubbery. She runs into a forsaken kickball field, With only home base to mark it as such, The last vestige of its former glory. With her nose to the ground and her tail in the air, She happily circles the perimeter, Discovering the new within the old. There will come a time when these old woods Will be mere wispy memory authenticated by a handful of photographs. I want to recall it all like March does. She never goes too far Without looking back over her shoulder To see that I am still there. I have not left her. When that time comes, Only her calloused soles Will tell the story of the miles and miles we walked tonight And last week And last month And last year And the year before And the year before Amidst the dampened woods of Das Vaterland.

By Rachel Kersey I’m from “Roll out!” and Reveille at dawn, With a brass mouthpiece pressed against my father’s lips, And pillows pressed against our ears. I’m from Arm & Hammer dryer sheets, Ajax and Lysol wipes,

I’m from patent leather church shoes and brand new Easter dresses. I’m from Crème of Nature, Pink Lotion, And ponytail holders with the little red balls on the end, The off-white wicker basket of endless ribbons,

And dirty germaphobes who leave the kitchen a mess but won’t eat off your fork.

And hours and hours on the floor with her hands in my hair.

I’m from pizza Fridays because mom was too lazy

I’m from ballet and gymnastics, swimming and soccer

And brown rice and beans and broccoli—

And all the gas money to go with it

All bland—

I’m from violin and voice and guitar and piano and saxophone and flute lessons Except for holidays, when she pulls out the recipes and proves she can cook. To compose her symphony of sovereign sophistication. I am from the Red Maple and the Red Twigged Dog wood, Whose branches grow and grow and grow after p run ing Like the leg hair my mama told me not to shave.

I’m from cardboard boxes and moving trucks, Packing peanuts and freshly painted walls. I’m from currywurst and takoyaki Fried fish and Caribou Coffee Culvers and Mahi-Mahi

I’m from tattered chew toys and scattered tufts of cot ton.

And dinnertime debates that go well into the night

I am from strawberry shortcake and sciatica,

I’m from Pilgrims Progress and Narnia

Stir fry (when mom’s gone) and sleepless nights.

Bible studies with hostile hostages turned faithful fol lowers

I am from Rachel and John And Rachel and John and Zachary and Christina and Lauren and March And the brother or sister who we never got to meet, The child my father hopes to meet in heaven. I’m from I-told-you-so’s and tattletales From “hush” and “stop being so sensitive.”

And bedside prayers to be “the head and not the tail, above only and not beneath.” I am from a gentle kiss on the lips And a little lullaby: “I’ll hold you close, baby of mine.” Joshua said it first, but my father said it second: “As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

http://www.jamesloveless.com/ religious/their-nightly prayers.jpg

I Ramsteln

I Am From

And dirty germaphobes who leave the kitchen a mess but won’t eat off your fork.

And hours and hours on the floor with her hands in my hair.

I’m from pizza Fridays because mom was too lazy

I’m from ballet and gymnastics, swimming and soccer

And brown rice and beans and broccoli—

And all the gas money to go with it

All bland—

I’m from cardboard boxes and moving trucks, Packing peanuts and freshly painted walls. I’m from currywurst and takoyaki Fried fish and Caribou Coffee Culvers and Mahi-Mahi

I’m from tattered chew toys and scattered tufts of cot ton.

And dinnertime debates that go well into the night

I am from strawberry shortcake and sciatica,

I’m from Pilgrims Progress and Narnia

Stir fry (when mom’s gone) and sleepless nights.

Bible studies with hostile hostages turned faithful fol lowers

http://www.jamesloveless.com/ religious/their-nightly prayers.jpg

Pag.20

Howard Daize Student Spotlight

ne 9 Isst.I

Pg.21

Can You See the Pep in the Duck’s Walk? By: Roosevelt Augustin

Tierra Holmes

(Inspired by “Can you see the pride in the panther?”)

1eet Chad! Floward Daize: Could you give us your Howard Intro? :had: Chad Graham, Senior, Business Management Major, Africana tudies Minor from San Diego, Califor-N1-AYE.

Can you see the pep in the duck’s walk? As he carries the weight of his ancestors on his shoulders Trying to push forward in a world that believes in stereotypes and social norms Allowing his feelings to accompany what is inside of Pandora’s box Because what is kept locked away is bad, right? It has to be right because society says so But the duck continues to go forward

Can you see the pep in the Duck’s walk? As she tries her hardest not to let this world consume her While trying to carry out her ambitions But getting blinded by doubt and trampled down by fear

ID: What do you like and/or dislike about your major? :had: I like that I get a taste of most of the business concentrations. I lislike that the SOB’s focus is job placement (with fortune 500 type :ompanies) and no emphasis on entrepreneurship or real estate.

ID: What Is the most interesting thing about you?

-fa,..r.- -

:had: I’m a business major but want to be involved in Africana studies and to coach football. I study business because I iltimately want the ability to employ, feed & house our people independent of white people. I also want to help people :reate their own businesses and contribute to the economic develop of our community (institutions). I want to do it all.

ID: On a scale of 1-10, how passionate are you about coaching football? :had: 9.5. I’m passionate about developing young men, but the business side is ugly. ID: If you pursue a career in Africana Studies and professional coaching, what will be unique about your ap roach or methods? How do you bring those two fields together? ;had: See, a football program is a community. In most cases, players out-live their football careers. And at the end of the ay, football is just a game. What matters more than how players progress on the field is how they develop as men & as embers of a larger community. The players are the youth, and the coaches are essentially elders; “the elders are for ounsel, and the youth are for war.” But what is a man, and how do we prepare boys for manhood, fatherhood, or elderhip? My research in Africana Studies, as well as my exposure to various institutions, reveals that African people, on the ontinent & in the diaspora, have their own unique answers to those questions. I want to approach coaching similar to ites of passage. However, I’m still figuring out the praxis.

ID: If you could improve anything in the black community what would it be? had: “I wish I knew how it would feel to be free. I wish I could break all the chains holding me.” Sorry. That had every iing and nothing to do with the question, but that song popped into my head once you asked. I’d improve, as in increase, e physical, emotional, mental & spiritual distance between African and non-[African] people...That in itself would solve ur issues on top of issues. But I think that way we’d be forced to solve them ourselves because we’d realize that no one going to save us besides us. And we waste a lot of time in bed with ideas, theories, and solutions that don’t come from s. You know? African people literally just need space to breathe (and think). Maybe that space is in Africa. I don’t know.

[D: Last question: How did a young kid from Call find himself on the East Coast? had: The Summer before my senior year, I took an HBCU tour. We started in the Atlanta University Center with More ouse & Clark, then worked our way up north. Howard was the last stop on the trip. I couldn’t imagine going anywhere [se after that trip.

Can you see the pep in the Duck’s walk? As we try to move forward with love As we believe in the ideals of love creating a space that is okay As we immerse into the feelings of belief And let humanity and peace take its course

On the limits of Power and Belief By: Roosevelt Augustin Is there really power within us Or do we have the same limitations as sheep A sheep is guided as we are guided by the unknown Is our power a call to reflection to thy self? Or can we truly trust what is given to us Has our past shown us that we can not be influenced by those in front of us Due to underlying circumstances, of course Can we truly open our mental gates and alleviate what we’ve been brainwashed with? We need to disinfect the virus that consumes all of us The virus that takes away our hopes, dreams, and freedom We need to give ourselves to ourselves Figure out what we truly possess The cycle of the power struggle ends with our call Call to action Call to serve Call to recovery As long as there is a call Psychological chains have a way of getting to us Cut that sh**

Pag.20

Howard Daize Student Spotlight

ne 9 Isst.I

Pg.21

Can You See the Pep in the Duck’s Walk? By: Roosevelt Augustin

Tierra Holmes

(Inspired by “Can you see the pride in the panther?”)

1eet Chad! Floward Daize: Could you give us your Howard Intro? :had: Chad Graham, Senior, Business Management Major, Africana tudies Minor from San Diego, Califor-N1-AYE.

Can you see the pep in the Duck’s walk? As she tries her hardest not to let this world consume her While trying to carry out her ambitions But getting blinded by doubt and trampled down by fear

ID: What Is the most interesting thing about you?

-fa,..r.- -

No Pag22

At Twilight Hour: A poem on human values

#Black Lives Matter I.

By: Shrijanand Chintapatla Day dies as night is born. Light hides from darkness in scorn. Fire melts the ice, though water douses flames. Ignorance and tolerance kill with different names.” I heard my friend beside me while we sat on a wooden bench in an almost deserted park at twilight hour, just before it got dark. We were arguing about human nature and values; we had such different views! His bad, mine good. He started again; my attention snapped to him as he continued.

Black mammies cry for they baybehs,

I listened as he rendered values as worthless; I couldn’t disagree with him more! I took a moment to compose myself; and then... I spoke. “I see your point, but you aren’t right. Something more survives; something else lives, beats, and thrives. The rose is kissed by dew, sparkling in the morning light, made anew. Grass that sways in the friendly breeze, love and friendship are stronger than most believe. Humanity can throw its hands up high, until it reaches beyond the sky, with values and without wrath, envy, sloth, gluttony, pride, lust or greed, we’ll find what we truly need.” My friend argued with wide opened eyes, trying to prove that his views were right. Just then, as it got dark, twinkling lights filled the park. The quiet seeming park was now bustling with activity, with children and adults alike, smiling, laughing as far as the eyes could see. The park lit up in shades of blue, green, red, and yellowish-cream, with gleaming lampposts from the source of a moonbeam. The park has seen many a day such as this, but for my friend and I—special, it seemed.

Ill. little black boys die everyday little black girls die everyday

YOU

little black boys who like to dress like little black girls die

yes, YOU little negro

everyday too

and they cry and they cry and they cry

you matter

barely high school edu-ma-cated

you matter mattah matatatatatatata

little black girls who like oth er little black girls die every-

and for their baybehs baybehs baybehs, c6/6O/7Ic66G4OO4336548 ,,b653Z,991

Blickity black lives matter Nigger monkey coon darkie lives matter

and for their baybehs baybehs,

“Pounding rain eliminates the rainbow, and angry hail pelts the pure, white snow. Lightning splits the sky, but clouds cover its existence; jealously despises persistence. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that nowadays it makes no sense to pretend to still have innocence; all of our lives can be condensed in shadows devoid of happiness or amusement. The darkness of the human heart stays with us; we do not part, and to the end and from the start, we can’t change who we are”

Any bystander would have thought of it as a well-sketched dream. We were never fond of noise, so we got up from the wooden bench. My friend and I started walking all the way to the park entrance. His hands in his pockets, he sulked--such a contrast from our surroundings. At last he spoke in a low voice, “I was mistaken, you’re right” I grinned at him as we passed the overhead exit lights.

II.

cameras and microphones be coming suffocate-ing

toy guns, a pre-pubescent death sentence

forced to be the voices of a movement that their sons had to die for

big little niggers can’t have too much fun

Oh, I know! maybe we should all just tweet some more

bloom

gotta pluck ‘em before they

if they didnt murder MLK he would have like, just a BA ZILLLLLION followers hashtag michael brown, hashtag oscar grant, hashtag who really gives a *

* * *

ain’t nothing worse than a nigger who has reached his full potential just look at Obama

day too too don’t say that too loud now the reverend might hear you now the good lord might frown now the devil is smiling now WHAT is this WORLD coming to? you mean these f**g**s are coming too? i guess they can marching with us but they need to keep that gay s**t quiet

Can you hear me, Freddie Gray?

hashtag no h*m*

Nah, that’s just another dead nigger

hashtag black lives matter though

I mean nigga I mean..

No Pag22

At Twilight Hour: A poem on human values

#Black Lives Matter I.

Black mammies cry for they baybehs,

Ill. little black boys die everyday little black girls die everyday

YOU

little black boys who like to dress like little black girls die

yes, YOU little negro

everyday too

and they cry and they cry and they cry

you matter

barely high school edu-ma-cated

you matter mattah matatatatatatata

little black girls who like oth er little black girls die every-

and for their baybehs baybehs baybehs, c6/6O/7Ic66G4OO4336548 ,,b653Z,991

Blickity black lives matter Nigger monkey coon darkie lives matter

and for their baybehs baybehs,

II.

cameras and microphones be coming suffocate-ing

toy guns, a pre-pubescent death sentence

forced to be the voices of a movement that their sons had to die for

big little niggers can’t have too much fun

Oh, I know! maybe we should all just tweet some more

bloom

gotta pluck ‘em before they

if they didnt murder MLK he would have like, just a BA ZILLLLLION followers hashtag michael brown, hashtag oscar grant, hashtag who really gives a *

* * *

ain’t nothing worse than a nigger who has reached his full potential just look at Obama

Can you hear me, Freddie Gray?

hashtag no h*m*

Nah, that’s just another dead nigger

hashtag black lives matter though

I mean nigga I mean..

I Growing up in America By: Alexis Grant My father only went to school until he was twelve. After that, he had to help with farm work and the market. He was always smart, but his family needed his hands more than they needed his mind, and there is no compulsory education for teenagers in Argen tina. Now, he hunches over the reflective blue screens—the LCD monitors, computer screens, and televisions that he inspects for twelve hours a day. He squints through his amberrimmed glasses by day and rubs his eyes when he comes home. In his downtime, he flips through the Tiempó Latino and completes the crossword puzzles. Sometimes he even does the English ones, often muttering, “inglés...no sé porque trata...” I can only imagine what my father would be capable of if he grew up in America. I saw a video the other day of some girl saying that she does not need to learn oth er languages because it is pointless to try to do so. If either of my parents were presented the opportunity to learn another language for free, they would

http//cdn2-b.examiner.com/sires/defau1Vfi1es/sty1es/imagecontent_wtdth/ hash/66/Oc/660c7ba4ea4e2d303d629d07818ab2a9.jpg?itok—1 lReI7o9

seize it immediately. Then they wouldn’t have to pay for three-hundred dollar Rosetta Stone software or the mediocre conversation class at the public library. When my mother and father came to the U.S. not knowing anyone in the country, they had to teach themselves English. My fa ther used to tell me that he would walk with the Latino mailman around the block to practice his English. He was desperate and prepared to put in the extra work to learn English. Americans do not understand that their education is what a lot of people like my father wish they had. Americans learn many different subjects—history, mathematics, literature, sciences—and get to choose what we like the most to continue studying. My mother had to choose her specialty to become a teacher when she was very young, so the rest of her education was replaced with lessons about how to be a good teacher. She was not a happy teacher or a happy mother. I wonder if she would have been happy if she grew up in America. I will dream because my parents missed their chances. I will pursue Opportunities because I have the free dom to. I will kick open doors, barge through barriers, pester businesspeople and professors, and harass administra tors to get the most out of this school. I will sit quietly in sweltering classrooms with no ventilation if the professor is present. I will hike miles in unplowed snow if class is in session. I will do anything for my education because I know that if I do, I will be happy to have grown up in America.