The Diaspora. The Afro-humans of Earth. I only have energy, willingness and time for Pan-African unity. I have wasted my entire life knowing things that they said I should know. I know their actors and actresses. I know some of their history, especially Virginia History, and the glory of things like the House of Burgesses. I knew of Patrick Henry and was picked to recite his famous words “Give me liberty or give me death,” at a night time play in elementary school. I played an indigenous person trading with the pilgrims in that same school for a different play. They tried to make pilgrims look like the example of purity. Oh, the great pilgrim explorers, who made America great?!
I will never get over the lies fed to me, my parents, my grandparents, my Ancestors, by colonizers. The United States players, the power brokers of a racist infrastructure are great in their own eyes. America has never been great for Black Folks, but we are the machine that keeps this nation going and growing. White folks capitalize, break, steal and take credit for most things we create. They have to be a part of it. They have to own it and try to own us. I will always, forever, have a bit of anger inside because of the racial trauma buried deep inside me. Growing up in the south and seeing Confederate flags as a regular thing does something to you. It radiates dark energy. The confederate flag is not something Black folks can gravitate to. It is a sign of war, against us, against human rights. Of course, all of this is just my opinion, but my hurt is my hurt. I own my pain, and this is the way I’m describing it. Richmond isn’t the Deep South, nevertheless, it is a southern city with a notorious and violent racial history. When my uncle took me on a bike ride to show me a KKK headquarters, in the city I call home (America is not my home-it’s the “Sunken place.”), it changed me. In my years growing up in the Capital of the Confederacy, there was a slight fear adjustment, an acknowledgement of darkness, a permanent overcast state, in my heart. I felt the presence of hate. I felt the spirit of separation between Black and white, rich and poor, the local government (built on Jim Crow, of course) and the People.
I have always tried to love everyone. At one point in my life I thought the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced was belonging to a multiracial mega-church. Haha. The more Black folks that joined, the more white folks left. What is that? Why? What’s wrong with us? I haven’t been to that church in years. The pastors were white and most of the leadership, decision makers, were white. The church mirrors the world around us. It could seem like I’ve given up hope. If I have, I think I deserve to be pessimistic. In my heart of hearts I feel like things will never change. I think that the Black folks who want to go on their own and build a Black Nation in America, should do so. I would be living there myself. The USA owes my people so much. The amount of reparations owed us is unimaginable! For those who want to Return to the Motherland, I’m for that as well. I want to go somewhere, far away from here. I want to be around my people. I long for home. I have never been comfortable in this country. I don’t know where home is for me, but I know it’s not White America. I don’t have anything left to give my white brothers and sisters. I have nothing left for the billionaire class. I have nothing left for cops, governors, Presidents, all who abuse power because they can. I only have open arms for the Diaspora. The Red. The Black. The Green.
Written by Michael Allen
Escape Indie, 2020
All Rights Reserved