A cruel contradiction

The assorted news headlines about Armaud Arbery and countless other Black men being murdered in cold blood is a tacit reminder of this Otherness affixed to us.

A label, a box that I refuse to inhabit, it is a trap, as the box has no air.

Brainstorming in Blue Ink.

I am one of the legions – a Black man.

I am often what my Father told me who I needed to be to survive…

My Father and I.

“Be a cruel contradiction – make them eat their words Youngblood.”

We can defy the stereotypes, but often it manners none, especially when we need it most.

I… and the legions of Black men – we live, under a fog of omnipresent alert.

We wield a Shield to protect ourselves from the arrows of a world that seems to revile our presence.

We navigate our respective minefields at the speed of life – hoping not to be the next headline.

Simply having the audacity to exist or in some instances, persevere; can be perceived as a threat to the order of things.

Truth be told…

We can’t afford the luxury of being hurt, because if we stop to acknowledge the pain – we will be overtaken.

Me at the base of the African-American Civil War Memorial – several of my Ancestors are listed on this memorial.

Copyright © 2020 ShunPwrites. All Rights Reserved.


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