White people believed that whatever the manners, under every dark skin was a jungle. Swift unnavigable waters, swinging screaming baboons, sleeping snakes, red gums ready for their sweet white blood. In a way, he thought, they were right. The more colored people spent their strength trying to convince them how gentle they were, how clever and loving, how human, the more they used themselves up to persuade whites of something Negroes believed could not be questioned, the deeper and more tangled the jungle grew inside. But it wasn’t the jungle blacks brought with them to this place from the other (livable) place. It was the jungle white folks planted in them. And it grew. It spread. In, through and after life, it spread, until it invaded the whites who had made it. Touched them every one. Changed and altered them. Made them bloody, silly, worse than even they wanted to be, so scared were they of the jungle they had made. The screaming baboon lived under their own white skin; the red gums were their own.
That Black and Brown people in America,
No matter our country of origin,
Are under surveillance by the police state,
Under attack by white supremacy, homophobia, and misogynoir,
And suffer under the threat of annihilation everyday.
Respectability hasn’t saved us.
You can get killed holding a sandwich,
Walking home from the corner store,
for Playing your music “too loud,” or even while
Looking for help after crashing your car.
You can see your children swept away in the storm,
You can be gunned down in aisle of a big box store.
Respectability can’t save us.
You can be assaulted at a traffic stop,
Be attacked while walking home with your friends,
Get shot 41 times for reaching for your wallet,
Or be left to an ignoble death after second-rate health care.
It doesn’t matter if you are heading to college
Or headed to the corner to slang rock
Our pursuit of Life, Liberty, and Happiness is a pipe Dream.
Respectability won’t save us.
Don’t think just showing your ID,
Letting go of saggy pants and gold fronts,
Is enough to stem the tide of all our spilled blood,
Is enough to prove that our lives matter.
Respectability was never meant to save us.
Only we can stem the tide
By showing up for one another,
Showing out for another,
Loving on ourselves and each other,
Marching, agitating, organizing, and supporting each other.
We’ve always been here and
We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
Original piece from writers at Crunk Feminist Collective