Matthew E. Henry
when asked to read a poem for the Black History Month assembly, again
this time I have to keep certain things in mind—need to find a balance.
knowing the pride of being Blackity Black Black scares the red into faces
clenching fists in their seats. knowing they need to see more than the METCO
struggle bus stories some of them are expecting. represent something other than
slavery, reconstruction, Jim Crow, and the white rage backlash to civil rights
seen in the 60s and 70s, the 80s and 90s, and right now, while still remembering
some of them think racism doesn’t exist because we had a Black president once.
this time I should remind them who invented peanut butter, the gas mask,
the stop light, air conditioners, performed the first successful open-heart surgery,
was first to the North Pole, revolutionized blood transfusions, fire extinguishers,
helicopters, fountain pens, and cell phones. but how many of them will pay attention
to that partial list or bother to verify later?
this time I have to remember not to mention ms_________, a “nice white lady”
who wears her DEI support like a white durag on Juneteenth, desperately trying
to impress the Black women in the building, hoping the nearest Brown man
will think she’s “one of the good ones” and invite her {to bed or at least} to the cookout.
this time I have to make sure they celebrate not only Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks,
and Oprah, but the other “Hidden Figures” untaught in our curriculum: Sojourner Truth,
Madame C.J. Walker, Shiley Ann Jackson, Ida B Wells, Marie Van Brittan Brown.
this time I should see if they recognize names other than Crispus Attucks, Malcolm X,
and Martin Luther King Jr.—you know, Black men who weren’t shot down in the street.
this time I should keep mr_________’s name out of my mouth, despite how often
he’s made a paper mâché badge and proclaimed himself the “woke police,” defends
those anti “affordable housing” yard signs sporting a brick monstrosity with angry,
yellow eyes and a dark, “urban” vibe.
this time I might mention how we cut and bag and sell Blues and Soul and Jazz and
Funk and Rock and Roll and Reggaeton and Dancehall and R&B and HipHop and
Queen Bee winning a Grammy for the Best Country Album,
but some might call that bragging.
this time I should highlight entertainment that doesn’t include us running with a ball
or from the cops. see if they recognize Douglas, Du Bois, Butler, Walker, Wright,
bell hooks, Brooks, Baldwin, Wilkerson, Ellison, Huston, Hansberry, Adichie,
Kendi, Toni, Nikki, Ta-Nehisi, Langston, Colson, Lucilie, Roxanne, Maya,
and many many others as more than the anti-racist homework that make
their parents’ palms sweat.
this time I might put on blast all the examples I’m not allowed to read out loud,
on a school mic, at a school assembly, but you can catch me later and ask
in person about all the things they want to keep on the DL.
or maybe this time I should go back to my original idea, and
read another poem about why squirrels are still vastly superior to dogs.