She Hopes the Little Black Boy Grows
She hopes the little black boy grows
A sentiment only the mother of black boys truly knows
Even Caucasoid women who have experienced a certain level of privilege have come to see
The same safety and comfort she is accustomed to, for her precious little mixed baby boy society doesn’t show
Take it back to Emmett Till and George Junius Stinney, Jr.
Little white lies resulted in the death by murder of little black lives
Bring it forward to Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, and Tyre King
Pre-judged by a prejudiced holder of a killing device. Executioner.
Shielded by “neighborhood watch” and the boys in blue who by the way, already know and it’s proven their lives are far more important than the mere perception of you
Because the perception of you gives them the right to shoot to kill
Even if your hands are up or you got skittles in one hand and Arizona teas flowing from your cup
Don’t forget that neon tip that distinguishes a toy from a real gun. No consequence; he has the right to kill at will
Loose cigarettes and bootleg DVD’s, you scum of the earth. For this capitalistic offense tomorrow, you do not get to see
And now, the mother of Legend Preston and his neighbors really know the words behind “hope the little black boy grows” because too much is coming into view
My God
Pete Rock and C.L. Smooth, when I first heard it those words really stuck to me like glue (and that song came out decades ago)
The description was a 20-year-old black male with dreads. But you chose to run down that 10 year old close haircut headed chasing his basketball child instead
Thank God for adults policing their own and intervening to abate the situation because THEY used their heads
When called on their bullshit, “file a complaint” was all they said
In the grand scheme of things, as we’re shown day-by-day, ALL LIVES MATTER but only if they are blue
Meanwhile, I hope the little black boy grows…beyond that
But let’s not speak on it, and let’s not talk about what us mothers feel. Let us salute that flag, sing that praise, and act like we all got the same deal
Oh but “we kill our own”. Glad you mentioned it! Let’s pretend we don’t have groups protesting and fighting to make a difference in our own war zones
Let’s pretend we don’t have men standing watch as our kids go to school
Let’s pretend we don’t have mothers shielding their babies from bullets sprayed out of guns that keep mysteriously showing up in “the hood” in droves
Let’s pretend we don’t admonish our own for falling into traps laid by economic depression, educational and voter “redistricting”, gentrification, and unbalanced judicial rules
Let’s pretend we don’t weigh in our or own killing our own and act as though we all sit idly by from the comfort of our so-called middle-class homes
Don’t forget about Jena 6, the Central Park 5, and more recently Kendrick Johnson; who by the way, didn’t make it out of school alive
Each of these stories has everything to do with the other
Pay attention to the “story” the media has told and try not to get lost in reality tv drama, or he’ll be forgotten with the next segment of “she’s not my baby’s momma!”
I remember like it was yesterday when my son was a baby all the way up to about four, the sound of his cry and the sight of his tears would pierce deep within me and pluck at the paper-thin film that locked down all my fears
Knowing one day I could not protect him, that I could not keep him close
Knowing the media would describe him, that it would daily chip away at my hope
You see, when a black boy of 16 is caught stealing in the paper he’s a man, but let that be a white peer of the same age, he’s just a kid and he’s mentally weak
The poor little white boy just couldn’t cope
When you see the next senseless death headline of a black male child (or grown) remember me, and the countless others, who hope their little black boys grow
#letuslive