racism, part one.
my race isn’t a crime. have i lied?
the covering you see on my head and the brown skin which shapes my face
are my heritage, history and religion combined,
not something to hide, to shun, to ban or to fight.
listen. you’ve all heard skepta, ghetts and dizziee rap about racism in grime.
they’ve been rapping for years but the narrative just doesn’t change.
2021, you turn on the news, boris stands on the stage and addresses the hate.
blame us once, blame us again and again. what’s religious freedom again?
did you hear about the black school boy who was racially abused on the train,
or the lady in veil who got spat at that day? you wonder why we rage, why we campaign.
never were we the victims of hatred they’ll say, they’ll just look the other way.
it’s just lies after lies with them and we have no rights to condemn.
grandfather says to fight, but he’s been fighting his entire life. still, they’ll let him die.
we hurt, we strive, we fall, we survive. but that’s far from the story they’ll print on page 9.
quote a white supremacist instead, shoot another black man down dead. what’s next?
walk with your head down, don’t you look now, they’ll single you out.
watch us perform our daily prayers, you’ll hear them whisper from ear to ear.
“they should go back to where they came from, they just don’t belong here.”
from the chains of slavery and revolution to the shackles of prison cells.
they’ll label us a threat, enable us to succumb to the unjust laws they’ve set.
make us plead and beg for something we should’ve had right from the outset.
have i made myself clear yet? they’ll just drown me out with their false calls for change,
such a shame. i don’t have time to hear about the measures they’ll take. it’s all fake.
racial politics is a risky game, ironic how the houses of parliament just play it safe.
call a brown man a convict for having a beard and walking slow,
label the black school girl angry and hood for speaking up just goes to show
that racism here is as broad as daylight you know.
but what the hell do i know? they’ll just tell me to go home.
speak quietly brown girl, don’t let your bravery show, please don’t let us know.
keep your thoughts to yourself, keep your head low.
but i have so much trauma to show, trauma to heal and trauma to let go.
malcom x and martin luther king didn’t die for us not to fight for our rights though.
so listen close, here it goes.
the covering you see on my head and the brown skin which shapes my face
are my heritage, history and religion combined,
not something to hide, to shun, to ban or to fight.
listen. you’ve all heard skepta, ghetts and dizziee rap about racism in grime.
they’ve been rapping for years but the narrative just doesn’t change.
2021, you turn on the news, boris stands on the stage and addresses the hate.
blame us once, blame us again and again. what’s religious freedom again?
did you hear about the black school boy who was racially abused on the train,
or the lady in veil who got spat at that day? you wonder why we rage, why we campaign.
never were we the victims of hatred they’ll say, they’ll just look the other way.
it’s just lies after lies with them and we have no rights to condemn.
grandfather says to fight, but he’s been fighting his entire life. still, they’ll let him die.
we hurt, we strive, we fall, we survive. but that’s far from the story they’ll print on page 9.
quote a white supremacist instead, shoot another black man down dead. what’s next?
walk with your head down, don’t you look now, they’ll single you out.
watch us perform our daily prayers, you’ll hear them whisper from ear to ear.
“they should go back to where they came from, they just don’t belong here.”
from the chains of slavery and revolution to the shackles of prison cells.
they’ll label us a threat, enable us to succumb to the unjust laws they’ve set.
make us plead and beg for something we should’ve had right from the outset.
have i made myself clear yet? they’ll just drown me out with their false calls for change,
such a shame. i don’t have time to hear about the measures they’ll take. it’s all fake.
racial politics is a risky game, ironic how the houses of parliament just play it safe.
call a brown man a convict for having a beard and walking slow,
label the black school girl angry and hood for speaking up just goes to show
that racism here is as broad as daylight you know.
but what the hell do i know? they’ll just tell me to go home.
speak quietly brown girl, don’t let your bravery show, please don’t let us know.
keep your thoughts to yourself, keep your head low.
but i have so much trauma to show, trauma to heal and trauma to let go.
malcom x and martin luther king didn’t die for us not to fight for our rights though.
so listen close, here it goes.
~maysablogs
Comments