Memories of a Black Childhood

Memories of a Black Childhood When I was 12 Me and my brother James Would walk for hours Up and down Main Street In Buffalo One of the hatefulest cities In America Down the street From where we lived Was a donut shop That made the whole block Smell sweet And the owner He just lived Around the corner He had these cute college girls Working for him I liked this one She was tall Had red hair The biggest breasts A young boy could imagine She was fat free Main Street had life back then With comic books, tire stores And romance And a soda shop One day My brother and me Was walking by the tire store And some little white boy Yelled out from the store Get away from here niggers And we set upon him And punched him several times We was angry Then his father came out And we took off up the street Yelling back He called us niggers Strange thing, Nothing ever came of it Never saw The boy again, neither That was good We didn’t want Any white folk Thinkin They was better Than anybody else Especially not us We traded Comics With white and black kids alike But some white boys Couldn’t help But wanting to act white My first thought Was to fight When I thought I could win Run when outnumbered Or become invisible But by 7th grade I decided to be the smartest You would find Me inside a book At the library And it was lonely But it was worth it It wasn’t until high school That I learned What true friendship could be I began getting into politics And the war in Vietnam And met Bill We met our first girl friends together Played Beatle records And protested the war He memorized Bill Cosby’s jokes And recited them to me We could be open About the shouting And anger That went on in our families And without saying so We loved each other Knowing Bill was also Important in another way Because he was the first real white friend I ever had And he helped me understand I had another option Reaching out without losing myself Or feeling so hurt That I wished I had someone To cry to In a way I am almost grateful That I was challenged And hated By so many people Who knew almost nothing About me Except the color of my skin And the lies That their parents Had told them When I listen to the stories People tell about how race affected their lives I am struck By the effort Some white people Will go through Declaring that they do not see color As if that is supposed to make me like them I tell them Better get your eyes checked Cause I’ve seen color Since I was 3 And you’ve always been white And I’ve always been black But don’t hate me And don’t love me Just because of my color And don’t hate yourself All I need from you For us to become allies Is for you To love yourself As you would love me And then I will love you blackSome things work, others don't Written April 6th, 2002 © on Apr 06 2002 09:58 AM PST   0 • 10