Mourning in America: A Black Mother’s Blues Song
Karsonya Wise Whitehead, #blackmommyactivist
For the mothers of Tamir Rice & Tyre King
it’s mourning (again) in america
and i am at the edge of singing and crying and mourning out
a black woman’s blues song
so i – i take the day off
standing still to find myself
as these are not just my nightmares
or shadows only appearing to me as real
these are shared
these are ours
morning time takes us all in
i’ve been up crying all night,
writing all night,
ranting all night,
meditating all night
running back and forth checking on my sons all night.
the broken down souls of Black women
rarely get a chance to mourn
we rise again and again
thinking that if we don’t
that if we stopped
that if we just stood still
then the world would stop moving
simply because we did
there are too many bodies
too many memories
too many bullets
too many marches
too many hash tags
to properly mourn
to fully engage
to disconnect
so we bury these feelings
of fear of pain of mourning of emptiness
somewhere inside of ourselves
and then we rise, again
we who have been taught to follow the rules
learning early how to submit
how to swallow our pain
how to lower our chins
shield our eyes/and be still
very very still
we raise our hands
we walk slowly toward the police
we kneel down at the feet of our oppressor
we lay on the ground with our eyes closed
holding our breath
screaming as loud as we can
that we. are. not. armed.
knowing full well that in this country, we are
because black and brown skin is seen as a weapon
and they-they react in fear
but for us…it is not america at war that scare us
but, america as war, that keeps us up at night
and as the morning comes
bringing light into the dark spaces
we realize that in this country with this skin
we are always armed and locked and loaded
and at the dawn of this new day
as we face the wind instead of running away
where we choose to stand and hold this ground
we reach out to our sisters
of the yam and of shared pain
none of us chose this path
but we find ourselves at this place
where we share and shoulder our pain
sisterhood is a verb
and requires us to be present
if not for ourselves/then for others
in the face of incredible pain
we greet the dawn
exhale and dry our tears
rejecting the silence and choosing to speak
we will bring the morning back to America
without our tears without our blood without our sacrifice
this is why we are still here
as survivors who have chosen to survive
and we will stretch forward toward the morning
and go forth to meet ourselves, again.
©2016, Meridians, feminism, race, transnationalism v15, (1), 1-4.
Powerful