Today's RWISA author spotlight belongs to Nonnie Jules. Here is powerful poem by Nonnie. Enjoy! :-)
Does My Life Matter?
By Nonnie Jules
I am a black woman, and because of the shade of my skin and
coarseness of my hair, because of the fullness of my hips, my lips and the bold
colors I wear…some don’t find me as attractive as my fairer counterparts.
You see, I’m no longer your house-maid or here for your sexual pleasure; no
longer Mamie to your children, I’m now someone’s Mother…a treasure. But, does my life matter?
I am a black man, and because of my dark skin and the boldness
of my stance, because of the kinky in my hair, the anger in my stare, and the
wear and tear shown on my hands…some still don’t see me as a man. You
see, I’m no longer your field property or your whipping post. I’ve
freedom papers and own land now, maybe, more than most. You build cages
to hold me, guilty or not; where you should build institutions of higher
learning, you lock me away for little things, then leave me there to rot.
Do you forever see my bed as a cot? But, does my life matter?
I am a white woman, and because of my milk dove skin and cute,
pinched nose, thin ruby red lips and fair skin that glows…with my pearly whites
and prominent chin…some still look at me and despise the skin I’m in. I
was never privy to the pain that was caused. I was born into that
hatred…those God-awful laws. So, does my life still matter?
I am a white man, born into privilege and wealth, easy life,
perfect health, yet…I’m still persecuted and referred to as “the man.” I, too, hate the ways of the Ku Klux
Klan. My neighbors are black, white, green and red…still, I haven’t fled.
To be where everyone looks more like me, is not where I want to be.
I, too, would like to one day be FREE. Yes, FREE! It also applies
to me! FREE of the labels that bind because of the color of my skin; I’ve never owned any human or
degraded any man. But,
does my life still matter?
I am a brown-skinned woman and because of my accented words, you
think I should be silent…quiet and not heard. I can do more, than clean
your windows and floors. Just ask me what I’m capable of, you’d be
surprised, I’m sure. I may have come here via the back of a truck, or
even the legal route, if I was blessed with such luck. Maybe I was born
here, and my parents, too. In your eyes, would that still make me less
American than you? Does
my life matter?
I am a brown-skinned man and though maybe a bit stocky, I’m no
less in appearance, than your brawn and cocky. I’m not a rapist, a thief
or thug…but a man like you, with kids to hug. I’m not ashamed to tend
your lawns and trees, but Executive, also a title I wear with ease; whatever it
takes…my family to feed. Don’t dismiss, or overlook my face; I may not have
been born here, but I’m here to stay. And, with that said, does my life still matter?
With all that’s going on, there’s much racial unrest. It’s
time to put differences aside and put real LOVE to the test. We can’t
keep fighting each other, when there are real wars going on. We must come
together in love, heal and stand strong. There are real enemies among us,
and their names we know not. We must stand on the front lines, together
and talk.
That stream of red flowing thru our veins, is what should force
us to…
release all blame,
stop the pain,
forge ahead,
no more blood we’ll shed.
Does My Life Matter?
By Nonnie Jules
I am a black woman, and because of the shade of my skin and
coarseness of my hair, because of the fullness of my hips, my lips and the bold
colors I wear…some don’t find me as attractive as my fairer counterparts.
You see, I’m no longer your house-maid or here for your sexual pleasure; no
longer Mamie to your children, I’m now someone’s Mother…a treasure. But, does my life matter?
I am a black man, and because of my dark skin and the boldness
of my stance, because of the kinky in my hair, the anger in my stare, and the
wear and tear shown on my hands…some still don’t see me as a man. You
see, I’m no longer your field property or your whipping post. I’ve
freedom papers and own land now, maybe, more than most. You build cages
to hold me, guilty or not; where you should build institutions of higher
learning, you lock me away for little things, then leave me there to rot.
Do you forever see my bed as a cot? But, does my life matter?
I am a white woman, and because of my milk dove skin and cute,
pinched nose, thin ruby red lips and fair skin that glows…with my pearly whites
and prominent chin…some still look at me and despise the skin I’m in. I
was never privy to the pain that was caused. I was born into that
hatred…those God-awful laws. So, does my life still matter?
I am a white man, born into privilege and wealth, easy life,
perfect health, yet…I’m still persecuted and referred to as “the man.” I, too, hate the ways of the Ku Klux
Klan. My neighbors are black, white, green and red…still, I haven’t fled.
To be where everyone looks more like me, is not where I want to be.
I, too, would like to one day be FREE. Yes, FREE! It also applies
to me! FREE of the labels that bind because of the color of my skin; I’ve never owned any human or
degraded any man. But,
does my life still matter?
I am a brown-skinned woman and because of my accented words, you
think I should be silent…quiet and not heard. I can do more, than clean
your windows and floors. Just ask me what I’m capable of, you’d be
surprised, I’m sure. I may have come here via the back of a truck, or
even the legal route, if I was blessed with such luck. Maybe I was born
here, and my parents, too. In your eyes, would that still make me less
American than you? Does
my life matter?
I am a brown-skinned man and though maybe a bit stocky, I’m no
less in appearance, than your brawn and cocky. I’m not a rapist, a thief
or thug…but a man like you, with kids to hug. I’m not ashamed to tend
your lawns and trees, but Executive, also a title I wear with ease; whatever it
takes…my family to feed. Don’t dismiss, or overlook my face; I may not have
been born here, but I’m here to stay. And, with that said, does my life still matter?
With all that’s going on, there’s much racial unrest. It’s
time to put differences aside and put real LOVE to the test. We can’t
keep fighting each other, when there are real wars going on. We must come
together in love, heal and stand strong. There are real enemies among us,
and their names we know not. We must stand on the front lines, together
and talk.
The differences between us are fewer than those in our heads; and
in the end, until we draw our last breath, we all still bleed red.
Yes, that small matter is what makes us brothers, and binds us tighter
than any other.
That stream of red flowing thru our veins, is what should force
us to…
release all blame,
stop the pain,
forge ahead,
no more blood we’ll shed.
release all blame,
stop the pain,
forge ahead,
no more blood we’ll shed.
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