Donovan Livingston's "Jus Like Yo Momma" | UNCG Liberal Arts Advantage, 2017
6.6 هزار بار بازدید -
8 سال پیش
-
Donovan Livingston delivers an extraordinary
Donovan Livingston delivers an extraordinary spoken word piece to a crowd of liberal arts students at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro.
“We share the same face,
Her and I – she was 9 and I was the twinkle in her iris.
Her eyes had seen much suffering –
Unexplained injustices all the days of her young life,
When she decided enough was enough.
We share the same skin,
The mahogany hue melanin
That wouldn’t let her in – the “we don’t serve your kind” skin,
The brown “you gonna have to go ‘round through the back” skin,
Back when a “hole in the wall” eatery would literally be way we received our food.
That little girl couldn’t stomach the incivility.
I know, because I was there –
The butterfly in her belly - the swelling
When swallowing her pride became too hard to digest,
The scars in her tummy told a story.
On that humid Carolina afternoon
She moved to the beat of her own drum
The sun, beaming brightly atop her brow, two pony tails, and bangs
Waving picket signs, demanding her spot at a lunch counter –
Her seat at the table when company comes –
The sun was unforgiving that day.
She taught me, nowadays
racism and humidity are one in the same –
Invisible to the naked eye,
but you feel it you when you walk outside.
So don’t tell us, be cool – don’t sweat it
Like it isn’t summer somewhere every day of year.
Racism, like the sun doesn’t go away
By simply averting your eyes.
We share the same ears;
Clogged prisons, overcrowded
with the names of victims –
Terence Crutcher, Philando, and Freddie Gray
Sandra Bland, the Charleston 9, and Keith Scott.
Their names drop like bodies, on my ear drums
Strumming the rhythms, we march to –
Denise McNair, Cynthia Wesley
Carole Robertson, Addie Mae Collins.
How do their names sound after all this time?
Because you were their age too –
And you saw to it, their memory boomed
Like Sunday School at 16th Street Baptist in Birmingham
I hear you, momma!
You’re the ringing in my ears
Reminding me why my words matter
Like Black Lives.
I swear our movements were twin babies
Nursed by America’s bosom
We share the same lips,
Blowing a kiss of death to Jim Crow and police brutality,
Singing freedom songs while doing so.
From “We Shall Overcome” to we gon’ be “Alright”,
Screaming “Alls my life I has to fight!”
But fighting back is what we do.
Anti-oppression is our DNA.
These double helix strands stand on a twisted view justice,
Double-dutching a status quo, hoping you’ll jump in –
But we won’t – we won’t
We are programmed to revolt.
Oh, yea. We share the same smile, too.
This gap-toothed grin is a reminder
That now is the space between History and Future
Now is the only space we will ever occupy in this universe
And now is the only truth you’ll ever see
So tell it – unapologetically
Because History is genetic
And every day He look me in face and say,
“Boy, you look jus’ like yo momma”
“We share the same face,
Her and I – she was 9 and I was the twinkle in her iris.
Her eyes had seen much suffering –
Unexplained injustices all the days of her young life,
When she decided enough was enough.
We share the same skin,
The mahogany hue melanin
That wouldn’t let her in – the “we don’t serve your kind” skin,
The brown “you gonna have to go ‘round through the back” skin,
Back when a “hole in the wall” eatery would literally be way we received our food.
That little girl couldn’t stomach the incivility.
I know, because I was there –
The butterfly in her belly - the swelling
When swallowing her pride became too hard to digest,
The scars in her tummy told a story.
On that humid Carolina afternoon
She moved to the beat of her own drum
The sun, beaming brightly atop her brow, two pony tails, and bangs
Waving picket signs, demanding her spot at a lunch counter –
Her seat at the table when company comes –
The sun was unforgiving that day.
She taught me, nowadays
racism and humidity are one in the same –
Invisible to the naked eye,
but you feel it you when you walk outside.
So don’t tell us, be cool – don’t sweat it
Like it isn’t summer somewhere every day of year.
Racism, like the sun doesn’t go away
By simply averting your eyes.
We share the same ears;
Clogged prisons, overcrowded
with the names of victims –
Terence Crutcher, Philando, and Freddie Gray
Sandra Bland, the Charleston 9, and Keith Scott.
Their names drop like bodies, on my ear drums
Strumming the rhythms, we march to –
Denise McNair, Cynthia Wesley
Carole Robertson, Addie Mae Collins.
How do their names sound after all this time?
Because you were their age too –
And you saw to it, their memory boomed
Like Sunday School at 16th Street Baptist in Birmingham
I hear you, momma!
You’re the ringing in my ears
Reminding me why my words matter
Like Black Lives.
I swear our movements were twin babies
Nursed by America’s bosom
We share the same lips,
Blowing a kiss of death to Jim Crow and police brutality,
Singing freedom songs while doing so.
From “We Shall Overcome” to we gon’ be “Alright”,
Screaming “Alls my life I has to fight!”
But fighting back is what we do.
Anti-oppression is our DNA.
These double helix strands stand on a twisted view justice,
Double-dutching a status quo, hoping you’ll jump in –
But we won’t – we won’t
We are programmed to revolt.
Oh, yea. We share the same smile, too.
This gap-toothed grin is a reminder
That now is the space between History and Future
Now is the only space we will ever occupy in this universe
And now is the only truth you’ll ever see
So tell it – unapologetically
Because History is genetic
And every day He look me in face and say,
“Boy, you look jus’ like yo momma”
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