Spoke to an older woman active in music who very much loves my singing. She told me people aren't respectful or better just because society is integrated by law. She recalled a time when a man ate the same food as her family, but he wasn't allowed/asked inside for dinner. She wanted to and had to go sit outside with him. She would take food to John [not saying his name] the nigger and they would sing songs together. The word wasn't disrespectful to her family, but he worked with them and he was black had to sit outside. Past the indoctrinated racism, she shared music with him. She loved him for the memories and for who he was. Much like how people love my singing but don't feel the need to define me as black. Art and music have a transcendent quality that helps remind people they are all the same. Souls within bodies that only reproduce cells enough to remain alive for what ends up being a VERY short time. Elevation and negation of race are somehow linked in our society. The majority of France's winning- Congrats!-football team is non-white people. They are still very much French, but the ambassador of France felt the need to fuss at Trevor Noah for congratulating them as also being victorious for Africa. Trevor Noah was born mixed race in Africa during Apartheid, when race mixing was illegal. "They are French." As if to say that washes away/forgives their brown skin. To some it may. There's backstory about France being upset about Nazis hiding out and being disgustingly xenophobic of non-white people. Take a breath and visualize me as a no-less chubby teen singing a classical song for my cousin. Her reaction? "If you put her behind a curtain, you would swear she was white."
Keep in mind she is light skinned and was shown from a young age that being light skinned is an advantage for a black person.
To be clear, I know good people don't all look the same, but are many in spite of the vitriolic rhetoric that would suggest there are no more kind people.
I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.
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