Spoken Word by Savannah Campbell
We aren’t safe out here.
We aren’t safe in our black hoodies, or our black skin.
Whether we hold an office or clean one, we will only ever be the color of our skin.
We’ve come so far but we still get shot down by bullets and by words and a collection of slurs.
Cause it’s okay for my white friend to call me the “N” word like it’s not a lash from the past.
And I shouldn’t even claim her to be.
Because your inclination towards rap music makes you “blacker” than me?
But will your brothers and fathers ever be shot, while unarmed, by police?
Or have their history celebrated 29 days, on a good year, out of 365?
What about being called “ghetto” for simply existing?
Getting followed around convenient stores?
Consciously thinking about what you wear before you leave the house for the fear that someone will perceive you as a thug before they know your name?
I don’t care if you can rap every Nicki verse ever, verbatim, I don’t care about your dreadlocks, what neighborhood you grew up in, how many black friends you have. You can’t steal my culture without burdening what it truly and fully means to be black. You don’t want that. Continue reading