Traveling while Black| a poem

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August 13, 12:34pm

It is a loud secret
surrounded by white
surrounded by backpacks
european languages
my own not my own
an illusion of conformity
unknown origins

who is this black woman
what African language does she speak
why doesn’t she talk with us
surrender to our questions
black woman
who are you to travel
where is your backpack
whose tongue is your accent
i have conquered Africa you see
i know you more than you yourself
i can jump like Maasai
watch me beat drum like
like tribes you do not know
i am African as well you see
i did not choose to be european
look here my soul is black
but not black like yours
real black like a Xhosa woman
because i you see have a click when i speak
and i do it in several ways

do not watch me
black woman
i will gaze right back
and ask you questions in my head
who are you to travel black woman
don’t you know Africa is mine
don’t you know the caribbean is mine
don’t you know i am america

black woman sit in the back
the front is for me
and locals
and you
black woman
you are neither




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