Hush, Little Black Woman, Don’t Say A Word
You say that, but when some of you are exposed for not being any of that, you get real sensitive. You don’t want that illusion of perfection dancing around in your head challenged. You, really, don’t want the indigenous/black woman challenged to evolve to higher heights. Hush.
You think she has earned her keep and her stay, because of what other people did or didn’t do. You’re not looking at what she is becoming today. You’re not basing her future on how she conducts herself in the present. Hush.
You have fooled yourself into thinking that there’s not enough of her fucking up to cripple your “village,” because as long as you are “fooled,” you don’t have to call her bad business to the table. Hush.
I see the problem. You’re still stuck in yesterday, so you’re missing the decline, the loss of morals, the seeping into her veins a foreign material that makes her act crazy, causes her to close her eyes and ears to lessons that would prosper her and instead draws to her that which will destroy ALL of her. Hush.
You defend her lack of integrity, her lack of morality, her lack of modesty, her lack of growth to the extent that she feels it is the status quo to push away that which is life giving and take up with that which is life taking. Hush.
That is why you still call life a struggle and live it as such. But you won’t look at yourself. You won’t even look around. Not with any depth, anyway. You turn your nose up to the sky. You turn your nose up to the very women you pretend you support in their travesty, in their dereliction of duty. Hush.
You’ve become complacent with that fragile-ass bubble you live in. The only way you can be helped is . . . POP!