I was not taught much about Mr. Baldwin in school, in fact I was not taught much in school. It really sad, I could have been a James Baldwin had that been nurtured in me. I’m sure a lot of Black talent has been wasted and not developed in schools and I think that’s the point of school. So please go easy on me as I make this attempt at interrupting this great, great Black treasure.
They call me Amerikan, but only by default.
They call me nigger because they are Amerikan by the grace of god.
I am owned, for the bible tells them so.
Though we share the same shameful and secret blood, you kill me.
The secret of us, must remain the secret of us.
We don’t seem to understand that what we have here is not a race problem, but a shade problem.
More of me shades you than live oaks on plantations that shaded you from the sun that shaded me.
Good evening Mr. Amerika, how are you this lightless day? Did you oppress, murder or break any treaties today?
In this country and in my mind, I was born colorless, grew up shady, matured into a darkie and retired a Black all the while called anything but.
And still my hand fits perfectly over my heart when I pledged allegiance to the this United States of Amerika. Perfectly, perfectly I say.
My calluses and broken back are not from labors that had benefited me and mine in our pursuit of happiness. No, but from empire building of which I am still not a part of.
Though history will tell the story of Amerika, it will not tell truth of Amerika.
I’m not angry nor will I get angry at this, my country tis of thee, but I am mad. Driven mad.
So I take my bow and bail out gracefully, because the day is coming when I will be just taken out.