Rush by Endeah Huey

A girl. Face blessed with acne, skin tight as a perfectly ripe banana. Lips perked up to the
experienced, she rebels, at any and everything someone says to her. Because what she says,
does not goes. But she comforts herself to believe that it does. “The world is mines”,… if only it was,… the world would be simplified in an despicable way. Incarceration for people like me. Even you. Because, now you’ve belittled the world. And in follows, you have belittled yourself.

This girl, dreamed eight different dreams, moves eight different ways, and wondered
eight different possibilities. Each time, she moves, but is accompanied with her “irritation”.
That itch she absolutely cannot scratch. So then she pouts and pouts because she can’t move
without her “irritation”. But every once in a while, it goes away. Eager to take advantage of the opportunity, she crawls, then stumbles, then walks, then run and finally sprints. She feels relieved, an “away-from- home-remedy” for the itch she can’t scratch. She is invited into a milk and honey bath, a remedy for the itch she can’t scratch. Its soothing, relief, she believes this is where she is meant to be. She… indulges into the milk and honey and takes a death breath. After years of her “soothing” and revitalizing experience, she stands up and takes a look into the mirror.

She has four eyes, eight legs, with hair arousing from every pore in her body. Disgusted,
and ashamed… the itsy bitsy spider climbs up the water spout… and draws a web of despair and self-destruction.

SUPERMARKET by Azúcar Mind

Uncomfortable. Like any hideous baby feels when an even uglier person is playing along with ITS toys. Once at an out of town supermarket, I couldn’t go down an aisle without people staring at my face, just trying to decode if I am white or not.  I guess my ethnicity seems to be way more interesting than the lady next to me carrying hundreds of ALWAYS Maxi Pads packs. Their gaze can be so intense, it is as if they’ve never seen a Hispanic in its natural habitat. Like a safari ride, watching “the wild” through bulletproof windows.

I remember I went shopping after the presidential election. I went to a close Marshalls. Just imagine the red dot painting, that was the scene. I specifically went to the juniors coat aisle, to see the options they obtained. A white lady had a similar idea. When she looked up to see me walking towards her, her eyes squinted in disappointment. However, this wasn’t this worse thing she could do. As soon as my fingers shuffled through the coat rack, she decided to flee. It wasn’t like she was there for a while. We got there at the same time. I may be overreacting, but i can’t help myself. Why else would she leave? Again I may be overreacting. I mean, after all, she did come back to the aisle...after I left.

I have been told that I am emotional when it comes to strangers staring at me in public places, like soccer games, malls, restaurants, or being the only young person at church bingo nights, and supermarkets. Compare it to walking in with a light up sign saying ugly on my face, but with pretty cursive letters. Anyways. You get the point. Nothing really can be done in this situation. All I can do is wait for a better day.

You Will Not Judge Me by Johnathon Taylor

You will not judge me by my gender

Because women can be strong too

There are women stronger than me

That do things better than what I do

I will not stand by and let my sisters get judged by their organs

Because you wouldn't want somebody to do that to you

There will not be a difference in the workplace

Where women get paid less

Because women are strong

And not damsels in distress

We will make jobs more fair

And not have opinions in the case of business

We will not look at women like maids

And certainly won't look at them like a housewife

We will not look at women as only sex toys

Whose only tools are a vacuum and a butter knife

We will not force them to do actions that offend them or under actions to make them ashamed

We will improve women's quality of life

We will not judge people by gender

Because it is very wrong

We will not look at women as weak

Because they are very strong.

Let’s make women’s life easier

So that they don't have to struggle along

No Turning Back by Kaylia Walker

There is no turning back now. They say we don't matter, that we are just meant to clean and provide for their every need. Donald Trump said, "It doesn't really matter what [they] write as long as you've got a young beautiful piece of ass." Supposedly, we are nothing more, but I disagree. We [females] have been overcoming stereotypes for years now, we have become police officers, doctors, and scientists we have helped change the world just as much as men. We have done our parts in making a difference. They say "this is a man's job." I say, "watch out world, we're coming at you with all we got!"

Can compliance be a form of rebellion? by Gabrielle Gousman

The dictionary definition of rebellion is "an act of violent or open resistance to authority." But my question is, can compliance be a form of rebellion? In a way, yes. For example, someone tells you to stop talking, and you stay silent even when you are asked a question by this same person. Compliance is rebellion for the silent. It is for people who do not like to be violent and who are not for peaceful protest either. It is rebellion for the people with no voice, for the invisible.

But is it effective? In a minor rebellion against your parents or a teacher? Maybe. However, for something such as overthrowing a government, I do not see it as effective. You should want your voice to be heard, you should want to be seen. The way to make a difference is to resist society, not give into it. There is a saying that “well behaved women rarely make history." We cannot be “well behaved rebels." We need to take a stand.

We are Tea Bags (part 1) by Mariah Fields

“A woman is like a tea bag –you never know how strong she is
until she gets in hot water.” A quote by the famous feminist, Eleanor
Roosevelt. What she means is that we have always been
underestimated as women. “We can’t take the heat,” they say.
We are just good for doing “a woman’s job." It is a fact a woman
can do a man’s job,  and sometimes even better! This is the reason
women run the world. We face so many challenges, and still
manage to keep everything in order. Even in this terrible world
we live in without us it would not function.

Am I Black or is Black Me by Daishana Milton

It’s many things that can make a person, but do we define it by character or skin

Where I’m from it is defined by you or me

The place I was born was the same place as you what makes us different

Is our tones or attitudes

She’s light I’m dark both pretty much the same

What's crazy is we're twins of the very same races I lost because I’m dark you won because

You're light

Just because my skin chose black I’m not your type or even delight

Caucasian, Black, French, and Indian

Just because my skin chose Black I’m not your equal

It’s like racism has it’s second sequel

Hands up don’t shoot

She robbed a bank what’s crazy is

They gave me her place

I’m a beautiful African American

She’s American, too

I am smart with a proper tongue

She speaks in slang and doesn’t get things done …..then you come to think

How people judge me

As one of the black and free.

Soul Garden by Endeah Huey

She does not need to be told what time it is, because she already knows. It’s planted in the soil.
Enriched with minerals, and vitamins. She knows what she must do. She walks with a curve and turns at a glance. That soul woman.

Bounded with the roots of the existed, she grows. Acknowledging the actions of the past, and
grasping them. Chin up above the shoulders, legs glided and glows with a beautiful brown, bronze, light. That soul woman.

Delicate and soft, her body is filled with beautiful scarlet roses, with sharp thorns, if need be.
Her hands dances along with her flamboyant hips. Stares only makes sense. That soul woman

The fruits bounded along her branches are blessing to the people, that come from good. To gain,
and to appreciate. Sweet, juices from her wisdom, is what helps people to move along. That soul woman.

She has a guest, he is mesmerized. In love, he adores her, her touch send electrifying waves
against his body. Her eyes give off the vibrant glow of the moon and sun. Her lips, bursts with a warming explosions in body. Everything she does, he can’t seem to accept, believing that she is paranormal, that there is an explanation for such perfection. Overwhelmed with fear, he run. Leaving her hurt, in distress,
confused.
She now believe, she is not enough, so in exchange for her lover, she encourages a raid, plotted
against her garden. Left with ashes, she offers them to her lover, only to find out, he is filled with
another woman’s fruit.

Losing Hope by Faith Smith

Consider her eyes and you will see the lines that divide humane society

Stare into her soul and you will reach the pain obtains young girls like me

For she is afraid because her future seemed so bright

Now she realizes that her life is in the hands of the undivine

Consider her spirit and you will feel the broken glass of uncompromising hope

Dance around her home and it will reveal that her joy has become no more

Search for her heart and find it buried in the dirt of the oppressor’s hatred

Jump into her world and you’ll see that she is labeled nothing but basic

Consider her love, for she was once a butterfly, soaring above all odds in the sky

Run around her track, and you’ll figure out everything was left at just that

Sit in her comfort and it will prove that she is lonely and abused and misused

Rest in her mind and insane thoughts and crimes will spill from the brain that doesn't lie

Consider her eyes, and you will see the lines that divide the humane society

Consider her spirit, and you will feel the broken glass of uncompromising hope

Consider her love, for she was once a butterfly soaring above all odds in the sky

Extend out your arms, wrap her up, and dry her eyes

BLOOD. by Azúcar Mind

Fight, bleed, heal, and repeat.  A process which happens to everyone. Whether it happens every day, month, year, decade, maybe a century. Some are known, some are silenced, and some are trying to be silenced, but whatever the struggle, we won’t live in jeopardy any longer. We recover to fight, bleed, heal, and repeat again. It is what us feminists do. We live for this stuff. So we may never be sexually harassed, talked down to, or be told we are inferior. With all our hope, we are stronger than numbers. We are mightier than any obstacle thrown in our faces. With all the dedication, we will exceed. We don’t have breaks. No sleep. And as we get older, the harder we sweat attempting to live in comfort. There is no need to prove we are equal anymore, we have done that for years. It is time that we demand for ALL of our natural given rights and fair treatment. Even when we are denied access to these things, we will still fight, bleed, heal, and repeat. Until our minds are no more. Until our lungs breathe no more. Until our blood bleeds no more. We will not give in and lose.

Faces by Makayla Booker

Our community, the black community that is,

has had a lot of problems that some people often miss.

We've lost so much of the stability that we need as a community,

but we've somehow gotten use to it, like an immunity.

The stability that we lost was due to our oppressors, controversy, social media, and loneliness.

But nothing will change unless we're all in this.

Some people refuse to see the change that needs to come,

and by the time they realize the need to change, the damage will already be done.

I look around and see the faces of my people,

the faces of my past.

Saying "I have a dream,"

hoping that we can make that dream last.

I see the struggle from which my people went through.

I hear the songs which they sung.

I see the tribes from which my brothers and sisters came from.

I look into the trees and see where they hung.

"Die Nigger Die" I heard in the streets from the faces of our oppressors, as they hung my sister.

Now I hear the jury say "Not guilty" looking at the cop's body camera.

Dr. King was able to write a letter from a Birmingham jail,

oh, how the mighty had fell.

At least he was trying to stand up for himself and fight for what he believed in,

where I saw my brothers going to jail for the color of their skin.

Today, some of these brothers  think they slick.

They think that they can go around getting themselves into sticky situations thinking that it won't stick.

I look around and see the faces of my people,

the faces of my past.

Saying "I have a dream,"  

hoping we can make that dream last.

You hear a lot of people spewing words that they claim to teach,

but how many people do you see actually practicing what they preach.

I see my brothers and sisters walking in the streets, on TV screaming “BLACK LIVES MATTER.”

So, now I'm sitting here trying to determine which one's sadder.

Is it the fact that i see this on the tv but people refuse to hear their pleas for what they seem to fight for.

Or the fact that in the middle of the night i see those same people murdering their own kind over stupid turf wars,

when you and I both know that they didn't do not a dang thing to be in the gang the claim to be in.

But got the nerve to be throwing up signs saying “Vice Lords” or “GDN”.

I look around and see the faces of my people,

the faces of my past.

Saying "I have a dream,"

Hoping that we can make that dream last.

Social media sure has had its perks and has been fun.

Huh? Like Malcolm Gladwell said “Viva la revoución.”

But what did we have to loose to get their?

Girls shaking their butts like they just don't give care?

I go on social media and see young girls 'thotting' around,

and young boys walking around with their pants dragging on the ground.

They can't even talk about where they lived and what they lived for,

because it was implied that communications door was closing by Thoreau.  

In the words of Drake “Trigger fingers turn into Twitter fingers.”

Bodies keep dropping while the smell of blood lingers,

and the cops who are trying to help are dropping to,

because people have a deep seeded hatred for them because of what they see on the news.

I look around and see the faces of my people,

the faces of my past,

Saying "I have a dream,"

hoping that we can make that dream last.

Scott Brown said, in reference to our world today, that “we've lost our right to lose touch.”

However I think the contrary of said such,

Because I live in a world today where the average black child won't know who their father is.

Do you think that our ancestors wanted this?

For a child to grow up not knowing what it's like to have a home,

where a child has to grow up alone.

Where they are forever on the fence

because “The silence at home, however, was finally more than a literal silence.” (Aria Richard Rodriguez)

Where parents could at least try to ease the pain that their child is going through,

where a child just wants a “Home at Last” like Dinaw Mengestu.

Kids are wishing upon stars when the stars are out,

wishing that they can get back the home they lost like Richard Rodriguez in Aria.

What happened to health and happiness

Because these kids are forever alone and it's sickening

I look around and see the faces of my people,

The faces of my past.

Saying "I have a dream,”

Hoping that we can make that dream last.

What can we do to get the stability that we need?

The stability that no one has paid heed?

I can't force people to see the need to change,

Because if I try they'll keep going down the same lane.

And what people fail to realize is that people won't change until they think so,

but until that time comes, they just going with the same flow.

However, without the change we need to overcome these voices, our past becomes a stutter.

Repeat after repeat like a song on replay.

Looking at my brother pleading,

"I can't breathe" he tried to say.

I look around and see the faces of MY people,

The faces of MY past.

Saying "I have a dream.”

Do you think that WE made that dream last?

The Pit of Darkness by Daishana Milton

The pit of darkness there is nothing to see,

 but all your flaws. 

Trapped in a hole that you continue to fall... 

In seeing all the bad and hurt ...

Your inner thoughts doubt you and  your worth  

telling you you're not good enough to have what you have  

a continuous battle on if life is worth it...

knowing your soul is hurting  and your heart is broken

that's all you see in the pit of darkness

feeling like you're in the water drowning and can't get up

you're hyperventilating, because the area is too small,

but when you realize the hole is two feet tall

you still can't get you, because you feel you deserve the fall

you try to change, but your mind still mocks you... 

You try to pull yourself out, yet you grab a rock,

 and it takes you deeper until you sink.

I am Invisible, too by Tamar Trice

During my sophomore year of high school in my AP Literature and Composition class we
were presented with a controversial book that had been banned in many other high schools. After reading the book it became very apparent why the book had been banned in some schools; it explored many ideas that had the ability to open anyone’s eyes to the racial profiling and alienation, judgments and stereotypes that exists in our world today. The book I was presented with was Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man, a book that highlights the struggles of being black in our society. The book only widened my view on today’s society seeing as though I had already experienced some of these racial profiling and stereotyping myself.
On one occasion, as my family and I finished our food at IHOP, my mom paid the bill and
we left the building among a few other people. As we reached the car the manager of

IHOP runs up behind us saying to my mother, “You did not pay for your family's meal.”
With great annoyance, my mother responds by saying, “I did pay, do you need to see my
receipt.” At this moment, I could see the people that walked out with us pulling out of the
parking lot without being harassed by a manager and I could not help but notice their skin color. They were white just like the manager. The manager responds with an attitude, “It would be greatly appreciated.” My mom pulls out the receipt and looks the manager in her eyes with great disappointment. The manager takes the receipt looks at it and sees that my mother had indeed paid for our meal, and without apologizing she hands my mom her receipt and she walks back into IHOP. We all pile into the car and this is the topic of conversation all through our car ride home. Many people in our society today have the tendency to act before thinking or jump to random assumptions when it comes to races that have many stereotypes surrounding them. The one-dimensional thinking of the manger only allowed her to perceive what many other people in our society perceive. She chose to approach a black family instead of the white family that left at the same time we did, her thinking was because they are black they most likely did not pay for their meal. Who could blame her she was just acting on the racial stereotypes and judgments that many others over the centuries have created around black people. I found it troubling to actually experience one of the topics that Ralph Ellison discusses in the book in that black people are invisible because people choose to already have judgments and expectations of us. We have started using these judgments and expectations on ourselves deteriorating our confidence as people of color. In our weekly in class discussions of the book one of my peers brings up the portion of the book in which Invisible Man goes into a convenience store and he finds a cream for black people to lighten up their skin. My fellow peer wondered why someone
would even want to do that to their skin. However, when I read that portion of book I thought about how so many people today think that having a lighter skin tone makes you superior. I was taken back to the time I’d seen so many posts on Facebook that said, “Light skins are winning” or “Light skins are better” statements that would no doubt make anyone who wasn’t a light skinned feel insecure in their own skin. We already deal with some white people believing that they are superior, however this was black on black racial profiling.

Invisible man not only touched on the insecurities black people have thrust upon them
based on their feeling of dominance he also explores the idea that stereotypically white people are pure and for America to remain pure it should be dominated by whites with blacks in the shadows. This is symbolized in when the narrator gets a job at that paint factory that only makes pure white paint in which a black substance is used to create the perfect pure white. Our society has been based for many centuries on some of the whites relying on others to raise their success and wealth. This was never more evident than through the history of slavery; European settlers relied solely on slaves to produce their wealth. After centuries, have passed one might think that this kind of behavior would not exist in our society. On the other hand, I’ve noticed that some whites are still dependent on black people along with other minorities. We continuously add money into their pockets when we purchase products from their prosperous businesses, which shows their dependence on us. Ralph Ellison clears up all the back handed manipulation and simply states their need for us, to be successful.

Some whites have chosen to use their power to make blacks feel inferior, hence adding to
the expectations of whites dominating over the black community making them more successful and powerful. I remember sitting in my sociology class discussing the different acts of police brutality that have recently plagued our society and familiar names such as Sandra Bland, Freddie Gray, Michael Brown, and Laquan McDonald. These names were common to hear in our school halls in classrooms, one assignment we had was to read the article that told Laquan McDonald’s story. I remember thinking after all of these back to back instances, "aren’t the police supposed to be here to protect us?" I was already aware of the police officers not following protocol when making an arrest and apparently in these different cases different officers have different definitions of resisting arrest when it comes to black people. Some police officers, being white of course, had not been following the correct procedures when making an arrest, because they were dealing with black people it appears that they already had predetermined stereotypes and judgments associated with us. They see a black male or female and perceive that they are committing a crime, as in the case of Laquan McDonald who was simply walking down the street, later shot and killed while holding his hands up. These police officers failed to see that blacks are not all the same, some choose to be involved with crimes while others simply chose a humane lifestyle, but because we are all black as Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man puts it we are invisible. Blacks are constantly placed in one group in which, so many assumptions are made
and people make judgments on an entire race.

I am growing up, in a world that had predetermined stereotypes, a time when a colored
person is more invisible than ever in the light of all the police brutalities that surfaced, I was
surrounded by the judgments that couldn’t be escaped. I could visually see the realities of the book and I understood the way our world worked. Therefore, Invisible Man took a form on me similar to the narrator, I was exposed to many eye-opening experiences that showed me that I, as an African American, would be invisible myself.

Me or You by Kaylia Walker

It is not that I am worried because your words cannot hurt me, 

but how could you put me down when I have come so far? 

Is it that you are scared that I will blossom into a woman, who knows my worth? 

Is it that you are afraid that I could do "a man's job," too?

Or is it because I will probably be better at it than you? 

Do you shame me because of my gender?

Or is it because I am just as smart as you? 

Who are you trying to convince that I am worthless?

Me or you?

My Uncle Barf by Azúcar Mind

Holidays are coming, meaning it's time to prepare not just for food, but for the ignorant parasites I call relatives. My sisters and I take turns in the bathroom trying to make ourselves presentable for our guests. You call them family, I call them “ scientific experiments that have failed.” However, there is only one person this Thanksgiving I can not handle. In fact, I cannot handle him at any family get-together. I call him Uncle Barf, the nick name is pretty self-explanatory. He loves to rant about his ex-girlfriends and how hideous they were. Once he called his ex-girlfriend a, “horse face with gigantic buck teeth…” I was a bit confused if he was describing her or himself. But, he closed it with a remark saying, “but she had a banging body. If you know what I mean. Hahaha [I’m an idiot] ha!”  I replied, “Wow, what a nice thing to say. Too bad she didn’t get to see what a great guy you are. Ever. Ha haha[ you’re an idiot!] ha!” Of course I was laughing all hysterical.  He also describes his disgusting fantasies about women and what women have done to him. Explains why he voted for Trump, because he too likes to grab young “meow!” If I had a penny for every time he talked about his ex’s, I’d have enough money to buy a tenth ring for hell. He has entitled himself a religious man, at least that's what he tells my Grandma, who is nearly deaf. Poor old Catholic, not him, my Grandma. Must suck to give birth to the spawn of Satan. My Uncle Barf has been married twice to two women. Just to highlight, “WOMEN.” It is a miracle anyone would marry him. Then they realized what they have done, and divorced him.

He is like the remote control and I am the T.V. He wants to control my views, my style, my sense of living, so I may be more ladylike to him. He wants to brainwash my mind to see what he wants me to be. That coincidentally is probably how he got those women to marry him. I am completely ashamed to even share similar DNA. Clearly something went wrong with his chromosomes, maybe he has I-have-issues-syndrome. You guys thought who ever is related to Trump had it bad. Actually, scratch that they are equally as bad. Gosh dang it, I hope my Grandma’s deafness is contagious. I could really go deaf about now, it SOUNDS nice for the moment.

         

P.S. My apologies to the deaf.  

Listen to my Words by Makayla Booker

You will listen to my words.

You will not merely hear a few verses and deem them credible.

You will not just hear a few words that rhyme and deem it incredible.

You will not get hypnotized by my smooth words that I speak.

You will not hear my powerful words and perceive them as weak.

You will not make my heart warming words of a calm serenity callous.

You will not determine the quality of what I speak by who talks the fastest.

You will not see me pumping my first in the middle of a crowd trying to get recognized.

You will not see me in a haze of Mary Jane, or crystal, thinking I can fly.

You will not see me as another voice that's lost in the echo.

You will not make me out to be someone that doesn't know.

You will not make me into someone who just puts on a show.

You will not say “She only writes about the struggle but doesn't live it.”

You will not assume what size I will fit.

You will not determine the value of my words by what you see?

You will not look at me and just see a 15 year-old black girl because that isn’t all there is to me.

You will not see me and see a girl from the ghetto.

You will not see me as being under you as low.

You will not make a mockery out of my name.

You will not belittle me so that you can earn you 15 minutes of fame.

You will not brush off what I say because you don’t want to hear the truth.

You will not silence me and cut me down to my roots.

You will listen to my words, for I have something to say.

You will listen to my words, even if I need to have it engraved where my cold body lay.