by Cinnamon Williams

I pledge my allegiance to the flag of the United States of America……  

In society they force us to think that the Flag represents unity, freedom in a nation so great.  Boys in blue are our brothers, heroes, saviors and protectors. White is better, white is undefeatable, white is white and white is right. The red, a figure for blood we shed.   

Growing up we’re forced to believe the unimaginable.  

Black is ..  

Black is bad  

Black was never good  

Black is ugly  

Black is dark. 

Black is dark 

Black is misunderstood  

Black is enslaved  

Black is unavoidable  

Black is dangerous.  

Dangerous  

Cause we  

Cannot wear hoods  

Dangerous 

We live in these hoods 

Hiding  

Dangerous  

Cause  

America turned  

Their backs  

Removing us from what we would never  

Know to be as home 

Stripping us  

Of  

Individuality. 

Imagination. 

Inspirations.  

Dignity. 

Fatherhood.  

Motherhood.  

Brotherhood.  

Sisterhood. 

The right  

To be  

Black. 

Removed 

Safety  

Security  

Replaced it with  

Danger. 

Cause one day  

You’ll be too  

Black  

To make it  

Home.  

You’ll get shot down  

By our fellow brother. 

Brother in blue.  

He’s been trained  

Color blind  

Black is red  

When you move fast  

Listen slow  

Have an explanation  

When your back is turned  

When your hands are up 

When you’re up against the wall  

When you’re coming from the store  

When you’re coming from your bachelors party  

When you’re shouting you can’t breathe  

When you’re stopped for failure to use a turn signal  

When you’re reaching for your wallet to identify yourself 

When you’re running for life and jump the roof  

When you’re recording for your protection 

When you speak up  

When you look down  

When all you see is blue.    

Blue  

Blue the color that hurts  

Blue is sad  

Blue is deranged  

Blue is plague  

Blue is worn by cowards  

Avoiding to do what’s right  

Doing everything white. 

Demolishing, draining meaning  

Of what Black truly is  

To them we’re just red. 

 

 

 

Black is   

Helichrysum. 

 

The first time I ever experienced poetry was in the fifth grade. The famous poem “And you call me colored” was one that caught my immediate interest. The poem was so complex and it made me think of where I actually fit in. I too sometimes turn pink in the sun. I began reading poetry books written by Langston Hughes, Edgar Allen Poe, Maya Angelo and collective poetry books. I wrote my first poem in fifth grade after entering a competition using poems my aunt wrote. When she found out, I was forced to create my own poems; I never turned back. Once I understood the true meaning of the way words can conform to a message, I couldn’t stop writing. Poetry has been my savior and I have been writing poems for about 17 years now. This piece is the first political one I’ve ever written. I am thankful for the opportunity to be able to create a piece dedicated to how it may feel to be a Black American in America at times, rather than just being a person here. The prenotion that Black people are dangerous has been flaunted, taunted and enforced throughout history. On a daily basis these past beliefs continue to linger and are implemented through governmental actions. The United States government has ensured the mistreatment, judgment and abuse of all Black Americans in this country, it just depends on where and with whom you’ll receive this treatment.  

When I began writing this piece, it was first just another assignment. I was truly influenced to create a poem describing what it felt like to be a Black Man in America. But in reality how could I, if i’m not one. So then the urge to write about Black encounters with police derived. As I wrote the beginning of the poem I started to get angry. I began feeling the rage from my own previous encounters with police, from the news articles, Netflix series and overall discussions of police brutality. We all have an idea of what it is to be stopped by an officer. Do we really know what it means to be Black and stopped by police? The fear that reigns and clouds your judgment when you see flashing lights behind you or an officer stopping you? People who haven’t experienced it, do not know it. Time and time again we read, hear and see police interactions with Black people and how it has led to their deaths. I wanted to implement that. By the time I got to the middle of the poem, my heart raced and my blood thumped for Sandra Bland, Sean Bell, Amadou Diallo, Eric Garner, George Floyd, Kalief Browder, and all the other lost souls. I was filled with anguish. I knew that what I wanted and needed to say had to be powerful and come from the heart. What I did not know is that it would lead me here.  

Notes on Contributor

Cinnamon Williams is a poet and a student at John Jay College of Criminal Justice of the City University of New York where she is completing a degree in Criminology.