1981 (Black History) Lyrics

I was six the day James Baldwin died, and fifteen in ninety-six when Tupac's mother

Cried

Turned twenty in twenty-oh-one when Bush lied, and today in a world where black lives Still

Don't matter, I'm way past thirty-nine

But I digress and rewind as I position my birth against and alongside several prominent

Figures and events across time

Thus, cataloging and commenting on the context each text provides, till I reach back and

Find the jewels popular history far too often elides

And then I'm done

The year was nineteen-eighty-one

But before I tell you where I'm from and what I miss, follow me as the timeline shifts to

Eighteen-sixty-two

Three years before the Civil War was over, four years overdue

Which was only a hundred and twenty-one years before I turned two

Yet that's the year Ida B. Wells Barnett was born

Born to rebel and fight for those caught in the net that Jim Crow set, or should I say

Noose

Highlighting the contradictions left over after the North and South called their truce

Only to let loose new forms of discrimination, hatred, and abuse

But what if payback wasn't a payment

America's history wasn't just foul, but a flaker

And our genius well-established in greatness, not new, novel, or nascent

What if I told you we were capable of more than just trying to educate our local Neighborhood

Racists

And what if Black History Month covered more than just the basics

Reruns of your favorite male-dominated faces, holding hands, singing amazing graces

Nah

There are far too many hidden figures in our basements, like them sisters at NASA, Face It

Black girl magic has always been an understatement

But while Black resilience is more blatant, centuries of cultural assimilation leave folk

Determined to overstate myths

We weren't all kings and queens, though it's fun to reminisce and push back

There's no need

We have a rich history and heritage without leaning on problematic hierarchies like these

Likewise, I'm not sure how useful it is to be preoccupied with the exceptionals on Anybody's

List

Be it tragic sorrows or accomplished intellectuals

What we miss is the everyday, or quotidian in which we live

Let's look to the masses for the classics and avoid being classist or simply limiting

The avenues for our advancements

Instead of a month, we need a parade, cultural centers, and to stop getting played

They invaded more than just our privacy, frightfully, as John Henrik Clarke, even blind, He Could

See

With all intended irony, back to the days of African primacy, like the Axum, Mali, and

Songhai dynasties, before the diasporic fracture, and intraracial divisions that were Manufactured

Between those enslaved Africans dropped off in the Americas and those dropped off in The

Caribbean

Our perspective, pride, and serenity is informed on how far back we go

So I suggest we let go of our fixation with plantation slavery, the Harlem Renaissance

And the 60s

And I mean quickly

Drinking from a stagnant well will do little more than make us sickly

Let's celebrate more than just one segment

Reverse the present

Learn from the past and show reverence, but then let our brilliance flow swiftly into

A future that's not tied to torment

Like I was a ninth grader when I fell in love with Jada, Pinkett, or should I say Peaches

You know, it was a low-down, dirty shame

She was chasing after Kenan, then set it off with Latifah

In Jason's lyrics, she gave black love new meaning, even showed up on a different world

For a few seasons with Whitney and Dwayne

I know it's random, but this too is black history is all I'm saying

Ah

And then there was Deja or Tyra Banks with Omar Epps and High Learner

Man, I owe John Singleton many thanks

He had me wanting to read more, run track, go to college, think about race, and well

Marry Tyra Banks

I was a sophomore in high school about to get expelled another time or two, yet Lawrence

Fishburne was so cool

He had me feeling like being a professor was a thing to do

And uh, I was in sixth grade with no clue before I realized Jordy, Kunta Kinta, and

That brother from Reading Rainbow were the same person

It's true

And when I watched The Wiz, I didn't even want Dorothy to go behind that curtain

I'd have told her to mind her biz

Leave Richard Pryor alone

Stop flirting

Get your dog, click Eels, and let that man finish working

But that's just me

Probably

See, I'm the type of cat that wanted Mr. T to whoop on Rocky

Don't let me put on a leather jacket

I'd have swore I was shaft and Richard Roundtree

So, no

The younger me thought I was real tough

A bonafide Bruce Leroy

Right or wrong in black exploitation films brought me all kinds of joy

So did House Party, The Fresh Prince, and Living Color and Martin, just to name a few

Unfortunately, losing Prince, Left eye, Aaliyah, and Whitney had me feeling 50 shades of Blue

Not to mention Nipsey, Morrison, and now Kobe

I'm sick

I mean ill

I eat the Fugees without Lauryn Hill

Netflix with no chill

Six Flags with no thrills

A wedding with no frills

Or even worse, a barbecue with no grills

You really want to know what's black history to me

Stuff like when Nas had that beef with Jay-Z

Chappelle took off overseas the first two seasons of Boondocks

Only thing Morgan Freeman has ever said, and Michael Vick being free

The list is not for everybody

I concede

Maybe just my cup of tea with that much I agree, but hopefully my point was received

Our limited conceptions of Black History Month leave me grieved

Why not let's have fun with it

Wouldn't that be okay

Expanding our perception is key

I wrote this listening to Janelle Monae

Or was it Stevie

I wonder

No, I think it was Tony, Tony, Tony, followed by Marvin Gate, Curtis Mayfield, and Donny

Hathaway

Oh, and the OJs

In that order

Now I'ma drop these last few names in gold cause they important to the black radical

Tradition and cause most Februaries they come up missing

But I promise I'll go slow

So, you've heard of Marcus Garvey getting out of prison, Franz Fanon, Sidney Poitier

And Miles Davis I'm guessing

Jimi Hendrix, Bobby Seale, Cornel West, and Sean King

But what about Octavia Butler, Sidiya Hartman, Erica Edwards, and Hazel Carvey

Alice Walker, Audre Lorde, Norah Bessie, Phillip, and Cara Keely

Oh, being black is a wonderful feeling

We stay swinging for the fences like Denzel and Viola

So when each year I get older, I'll be on my St. Cofa, looking back and then forward

Meanwhile Venus and Serena keep getting colder

The blueprint for Naomi and Coco

And just might make you a believer in black excellence like Usain Bolt, Steph Curry, and

Derek Jeter

The list, it could go on and on and on and on

Like Miss Erica Badu rolling around in the mud singing her favorite songs

Now maybe none of these black folk mean anything to you or give you a sense that you Belong

But someone does

And you do

Is it a mother, brother, cousin, friend, uncle or auntie, father, teacher, co-worker

Or mentor probably

And what about you

Whose life did you impact while being black and refusing not to crack

In fact, I got a better question

Who helped bring you to wholeness and let go of lack, reject shame and embrace Blackness

With both your individual and collective identities intact

I can think of a few

But I'll stop here and humbly submit this poem for your review

Put simply, we are black history

Let's not just be mindful of what we've done, but what we do