I sit here and I write about my experiences and my visual captures, but what about a man’s feelings? 

A man’s feelings on how so much hate in the world makes him wish to never create human life. Or, how about how the racial looks from a woman he considers beautiful makes him want to cry? How about being in the shoe store buying brand new kicks and a white lady and her five-year-old child get scared when you’re walking by and they get to hugging each other, but you not even trippin’ and yet you think, “Punk-ass white bitch.” How about your coming from your Hispanic girlfriend’s house and some Hispanic males drive up and pull out guns yelling, “Fuck niggers,” and you ain’t got no choice but to pull out your 38 snubnose and give them what they want.  

How about all the just pumping your fist in the air from citizens who don’t see that violence is needed sometimes against a structure that breeds violence, and it frustrates a man so much that he falls into depression?  What about walking around a level 4, 180 max security prison yard being watched by prison officials with black shades on judging you every day? It makes your skin itch and burn with rage and they haven’t even took the time to know the real you? How about being in your prison cell and you don’t even watch your personal T.V. because something you might see may make you make a knife and go on a suicide mission until you’re shot and killed. 

Imagine, after sixteen years of incarceration, no one in your family tells you that your grandmother has died and the only way you find out is because the landlord lady who owned the house writes you a letter. No priest to talk to, no family ‘cause they scared how you’re going to react.…

These are scenarios that have left me feeling desensitized over time. Before it was like a slap in the face, for I did not ask to be put on earth nor ask for the color of my skin….When people say they love me I flinch and close my eyes, awaiting the degrading punchline. The ignorance and immorality of this realm has discouraged me, and the crazy thing is this is every so-called minority’s legend. 

From this, can you see what it’s like to be the first of any creation that forges creation, and face daily what is in you? It’s like looking in the mirror and seeing every facet of your facial identity yet holding out hope of bringing about the beauty and glorification of what you’re intended to be. What your creation is intended to be. Fighting against yourself to bring about perfection of the African god you are. Can’t you see that your rejection of me makes me reject the you that is me?

(Do you see it? Do you feel it?)