This is one of those weeks where you just shake your head and say, “I can’t with you, America.”

I live in a backward part of the country. I say that because it’s pretty obvious the revolution didn’t quite come here. They heard about it on TV then turned the tube off and went back to their Bibles…The ones that say Ham was cursed and Jesus was white…

But never have I felt more out of place here then this year – 1967, I mean, uh 2017.

Seriously people, violent white supremacists, police with an “us-against-them” mentality, neighbors with confederate flags supporting it all, and a president that…well, I just can’t.

I knew the browning of America would be scary for you, but apartheid shouldn’t be our goal. I mean, we don’t really want a tyrannical racist regime where reporters are jailed for telling the truth, do we? DO WE????

If we do turn all dystopian cray-cray I know I’ll be the one to die first, because I teach young people to think for themselves. I teach them to recognize bias and be media literate. I teach them to use their voice. I teach them the value of history – real history, not sugar coated, but what really went down. And, as Carla Christoper says, I be poeting…

The poets fill the jails in China, the Middle East, Africa… Here we called them communist, radical and banned them from schools. Sonia Sanchez was arrested for teaching the same words I teach today: “I, too, Sing America.”

But no matter what the radical right thinks, our poetry is the key to staying woke in this loathsome dimension. A revolution can stand on a poets’ words. A Gabonese friend told me ‘Whoever stops us from dreaming, we’ll stop them from sleeping.”

Stay woke people. Be offended if you may, call me what you want. I can’t tip toe around the truth. It’s my job to tell it. #IbePoeting

 

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