An Spoken Word Ode-Elegy to 'Good White' America

Mirror, mirror, on the wall

Who is the most narcissistic nation of all?

The one where Whiteness won

With red and blue thrown in for good measure

The ‘exceptional’ continent of the Americas

White solipsistic heads in the sand, but

Elections aren’t a ride at Disneyland

Unless you’re in Trump’s White Lamb’s Book of Life

Good White people’s bodies are not the targets

Of his exclusionary surgical knife

 

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There will be blood, but

Not the proverbial type. Rather,

The kind born of the scars

Of a nation content

To sear its capitalistic intent

Into my ancestors’ black backs

The lives that still don’t matter

Enslaved by a euphemism:

Mass incarceration

The bodies continually sacrificed

Yet by whose very stripes the nation could be healed…

Except that you accepted

Individualism run amok

Contrary to the communalism found among the oppressed of us,

Those whose bodies from view, America still conceals

For not conforming to White, Christian, heterosexist, ableist, and capitalist ideals

Black like Elijah

Lesbian like Julie

Gay like Isaac

Latinx like Christine

Muslim like Fatima

Chinese American like Nina

Undocumented like *****

Differently abled like Stephen

Transgender like Anne

Naturalized like Larisa

Native like Mary

Woman like me

Those whose very humanity

Has been mocked by White Supremacy

Since the Boston Tea Party

Not merely since The Trumpet blew his hot and wicked air

To take America back, Tea Party Redux, somewhere

Back to the beginning of this errant experiment

Conceived in liberty and justice, for some

Now The Trumpet calls for civility in the land of Citizens United,

the Supreme Court case that assures

Money buys the privileged bullhorns and ‘access’, and

The rest of us are left to blow in a kazoo band

With no due process

Such is the platitudinous song of liberty

Still, the Good White refuses to see

She’s on the top of the heap

Under which lies my black body

The Good White cannot bear to hear

How I reflect his indifference

HIs unwillingness to accede

That some of us get grafted into the American Creed

Only to be lynched, like strange fruit, in Jesus’ name

Onward White Christian soldiers

Marching as to race war

With the cross of white supremacist

Blond haired, blue-eyed Jesus

Going on before

There will be blood

And scapegoats

White collar criminals like Barabbas—spared

Prophets without honor—scorned

There will be blood

Black sheep led to the slaughter

Despised and rejected by their own:

Christian Amerikkka

There will be blood

Living sacrifices refusing to bear the weapons of war

The weapons of the weak, the oppressed

We are the interstitial ones

The seams of the fabric of our humanity

There will be blood

Embodied Solidarity in the trenches

Life and resistance teeming from the liminal spaces that

The cloth of White Nationalism prefers to cover up

With disdain and derision for ‘The Other’

There will be blood, for

‘The Other’ will not allow the Good White to forget

We are your other mother

Your brother

There will be blood

It will scream from the ground

We are one another’s keepers

With my life and breath

I will resist your hatred

To the death