1. |
White People on Twitter
02:29
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White people on Twitter are angry
saying “why does it always have to be about race?”
they never owned slaves and they only say the n-word
when they’re drunk and never to anyone’s face
white people on Twitter are offended
by the fact that anyone anywhere’s offended
the outrage about the outrage when it’s about race is endless
white people on Twitter are defensive
playin’ devil’s advocate in your mentions
and they’ll probably check out before they empathize
‘cause white people on twitter “don’t like to be generalized”
that’s the greatest sin you can commit
groupin’ people together is at the source of all of this-
or so the white people on twitter say
just stop talkin’ about racism and it will go away, right?
“Love and light: it’s not complex”
like a Martin Luther King quote out of context
Yeah they got a lotta quotes
lined up like dominoes, arguing with Ta-Nehisi Coates
white people on twitter have feelings
white people on twitter have FEELINGS
so many FEELINGS, so it’s doubtless
that every conversation is in orbit around them
and I can hear ‘em sayin’ right now:
“whatever dude, you’re white too,” I’m like true
I ain’t full-blooded but I am a little bit
enough that white kids still listen to my shit
white people on twitter are my fanbase
white people on twitter self-deprecate
but this is bigger than saying the right things on the right platform
this is about how we transform
when police kill a black child,
white people on twitter stay quiet
funny how they got so much to say
soon as you mention a racial bias
soon as a protest turns to a riot
that’s when they’ll talk about violence
but not a peep for the blood in the street or the ave
when it’s drawn by a thug with a badge and I know
white people on Twitter aren’t evil
racism’s bigger than bigotry it’s a history
but white people on Twitter tell me all lives matter
the newspaper disagrees
the nightly news disagrees
the statistics disagree
the lived experience of millions of our neighbors disagrees
so who do you believe?
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2. |
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and I can hear ‘em sayin’
I can fly, why can’t you?
anyone can do it, that’s the honest truth
paparazzi snappin’ at my twenty foot wingspan
I’m sure you could grow ‘em too if you really wanted to
ooh… I can fly, why can’t you?
the genetic engineering took a generation
and a billion dollars, but most importantly a positive attitude
so what’s the matter with you?
(tony the scribe):
You seen them rich folk takin’ up the sky?
I heard ‘em comin’ down tryin’ to tell us how to fly
Sayin’ that’s it’s simple, all you gotta do is try
All it take is hot wax, work ethic, and some twine
Keep your mind focused and the universe provide
But if you come from the top all you gotta do is glide
These people stay blind; ‘til they watch us ball from the courtside
And make me wonder if they ever been to the northside
It’s better lookin’ down from the sky
Than it is lookin’ up from the ground, and boy I’m lookin’ around
And I ain’t seen no goddamn angel
all I’m seein’ is some icarus clowns, boy it’s been gettin’ me down
They won’t hear what we need
They just offer up ideas and bounce
All these well-meaning white folks with 20-foot wingspans
Singin’ too goddamn loud
I can fly, why can’t you?
anyone can do it, that’s the honest truth
paparazzi snappin’ at my twenty foot wingspan
I’m sure you could grow ‘em too if you really wanted to
ooh… I can fly, why can’t you?
the genetic engineering took a generation
and a billion dollars, but most importantly a positive attitude
so what’s the matter with you?
(guante):
If you should ever find yourself fallin’ from the sky
just remember: this is America
where some people have wings and some do not
but we all have equal access to prayin’ while we drop
If you should ever find yourself burning
Just remember: this is America
Where if you work hard and believe in yourself
Those flames will jump from you on to somebody else
If you should ever find yourself buried alive
just remember: this is America where it may seem
like six feet of dirt has you trapped
but don’t worry, just pull yourself up by your bootstraps
If you should ever find yourself here
in the land of the free and the home of the brave
bring a photo ID and have no fear
smile for the cameras, we’re all celebrities here
I can fly, why can’t you?
I’m gettin’ closer to the sun every second
and from this elevation, I see your arms wavin’
I just can’t tell if it’s a warning or a celebration
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3. |
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I don’t recognize this place anymore
Grew up around the corner, before these lines and borders
but I don’t recognize this place anymore
I ain’t afraid of ghosts
I grew up in a place where they’re takin’ over slow
like death isn’t always the fading of a soul
progress isn’t always related to growth
the first step in building a skyscraper
is digging up a very deep hole...
you ever seen a city melt into a shadow of itself?
you ever feel like there’s a lack of all the magic that we felt
split an atom or a cell like it’s progress
like destruction and creation are the same process
yeah, and our relationship
just ain’t been the same since the chains moved in
.I still remember when
I felt like a million bucks wasn’t worth a cent
your heart is still the only place I want to live
I just can’t afford the rent, yo
I don’t recognize this place anymore
a beautiful blank canvas, after all this color’s been banished
I don’t recognize this place anymore
I ain’t afraid of ghosts
a house can’t be haunted if it never had a soul
but tell me what happens when that house gets sold?
does a spirit shiver when it’s stuck out in the cold?
so this is how the world ends? a casual exorcism
the closing of a story dressed up as the beginnin ’what’s the limit?
here’s to the history we lived in
here’s to the years we were able to resist this
here’s to acid rain as it falls
enveloped in each other as umbrellas dissolve
you’ll caress my skin and I’ll peel it off
until we’re nothin’ but our hearts underneath it all
and then we’ll sell ‘em to developers for cheap and fall
deeply asleep as the concrete just crawls
over the whole earth ‘til all of a sudden
you got this look like a cop sayin’ “you lost or something?”
I don’t recognize this place anymore
so I’ll leave for the last time, and treat every memory as a landmine
‘cause I don’t recognize this place anymore
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4. |
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Sometimes, you are a lit match dropped into a boiling ocean. Sometimes, you are a stray dog proud of the sunrise after a long night of barking at the moon. Sometimes, you scream at the television, shadowbox mushroom clouds; your hand-to-hand hatred outclassed, outdated. You: post-apocalyptic litterbug. You: venomous spider in the basement of a burning building. You: whose anger is so vast, and so empty—all teeth, and no mouth, just that white rattle.
Remember: white supremacy is not a shark; it is the water. It is how we talk about racism as white hoods and confederate flags, knowing that you own those things, and we don’t… as if we didn’t own this history too, this system—we tread water.
And you: chum in a bucket. How many skinheads do you think are in the room when they set immigration law? Or decide curriculum for public schools? Or push policies like redlining, mandatory minimum sentencing, benign neglect, gentrification, broken windows policing, voter, ID, stop and frisk, three strikes, the drug war? Remember: the eye of the hurricane is the least destructive part.
You: meanest glare in the chatroom, all poker-face and no cards. Was it your politically incorrect YouTube comment that made the median net worth of black families in this country nine percent the median net worth of white families?
Which individual Donald Trump bigot bogeyman are we supposed to be angry at about the millions of people impacted by discrimination in housing, and banking, and education, and employment, and the criminal justice system, each year? Remember: sharks kill about one person each year; thousands drown.
So, when there is a new name hashtagged each week, when police create more black stars than Hollywood; how long do we keep pointing out the bad apples, ignoring the fact that the orchard was planted on a mass grave? …and that we planted it there?
Because of course, this isn’t really a poem for white supremacists. I don’t know any white supremacists.
But I know a lot of people in my neighborhood, in my family. And I know myself. And I know how white supremacy is upheld, whether through our action, our inaction, or just through paying our tuition and taxes. How it isn’t just the broken treaty; it also the treaty. How a gavel can speak as loudly as a grenade. How a white fratboy in blackface on Halloween and his friend, who knows it’s wrong but doesn’t say anything, begin to blur together.
How the real racists, today, are so often not even racist. Those teeth, sharper when smiling, sharper still when smiling, and meaning it.
A burning cross is so dramatic. Just say: I don’t see race. Just say: we all have an equal chance if we work hard. Just say: all lives matter. Just say nothing; surround yourself with others who say nothing, and convince yourself that silence is the only song: this muted, underwater melody, this pulsing quiet.
And when a chorus blooms in Baltimore, when trumpets sound in Ferguson, when every one of our cities breaks… into song, will we hear it? Will we choose to listen? Or will we just continue treading water, watching for that great, white, shark… not realizing that we’re drowning?
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5. |
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uh, tryin’ to eat, tryin’ to live
survival in the eye of the storm and the cipher spins
like a spiral and we’re tryin’ to rise and then lightnin’ hits
hairpins in every lock until they finally click, finally rich
with information we can take it if we want it
or just flip the station as that live audience applauds it
cue laughtrack, did you hear that?
they can laughter like a canister of tear gas
clear as some follow the money and some follow the love
we all follow somebody’s blueprint
plain as the black print on the white one sheet bio
grey areas are where I flow
i know brilliant practitioners who lack listeners
seen shamans make the ugliest spaces sacred
seen the best minds of my generation wasted
complacent playin’ video games off in the basement
disillusioned with how the game went, i can’t blame them
they can’t pay rent,
we can’t separate the bullshit from the authentic
when the mixing and the mastering are bought on credit
(click click) is that the ticking of a time bomb or is it opportunity knockin’
on my jewel case coffin, (click)
is that the stackin’ of chips, like gettin’ rich
or the sound of a million white kids hittin’ skip
not everyone who works hard earns it
not everyone who works hard earns it
not everyone who works hard earns it
not everyone who works hard earns it
so if they ever make you a monument
scratch your name out, break it, spit on it, burn it
(burn it, burn it, burn it)
I wrote two sixteens on my two fifteens
each day from sixteen to twenty two it seems
I paid dues to eat, made time for rhymin’
but is that why this promoter’s in front of me smilin’?
if I talk about violence will they call me violent
or just “literate & politically-minded?”
i got so many problems with authority
this oratory is validated and plated with relish
like “intelligent hip hop” doesn’t describe pretty much all of it?
unless your definition of intelligent is off a bit
I’m tryin’ to be self-aware but it’s hopeless
when I got so many white rappers on my “nope” list
huh and never had no class
still the best MC in my grad school class
it just feels sometimes like acknowledging your privilege
is the new not acknowledging your privilege
or rappin’ is the new “I have a black friend
so I can’t be racist” but it’s a system not a sickness
payback with interest or it’s useless
no intentions, rhetoric, allies, or excuses
yo… I thank everyone who’s tuned in
deuces to every follower I’m losin’
defensiveness is a burden
and skin is only surface, but history is real
and it’s absolutely certain: not everyone who works hard earns it...
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6. |
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(GP Jacob):
You see more clearly when you look at life through multiple perspectives
Don’t believe what you see on the screen they misdirect us
We should hand out life sentences to multiple detectives
But it ain’t just ‘bout the pigs; it’s ‘bout who gives the pigs directions
Sower of confusion, wager of the war
They build all the prisons, with intent they make decisions
Invent racial divisions that they layer on the poor
And if you help ‘em kill the Black man they pay a little more
Racial bribery, the tv camera lied to me
The preacher to my people reachin’ tryin’ to hit the lottery
An immigrant is not a leach nor reason for my poverty
Divide and conquer logic, the secret of their psychology
In your brain is where a tyrant reign
Not just one type; we need all kinda change
‘Cause the revolution can’t save you anyway
Lines in the water, gotta build power many ways
one bad cop is a problem
but one bad cop is not the problem
one bad department’s a problem
but one bad department is not the problem
one bad politician is a problem
but one bad politician is not the problem
.and when we don’t see the whole picture
we treat the symptoms and keep gettin’ sicker
(Guante):
it’s July 4, 2015
and right away the song’s dated but timelessness is overrated
I believe in calculated impatience
readin’ my newsfeed like they’re loose leaf pages, yo
so when the interviewer asks me
why do you write so much about race? I’ll say
today? how could I write about anything else?
when art is a reflection of self
and I’m alive at a time when so many are sentenced to cells
and so many others are just gone
and so many who look like me are statistically unlikely
to go out in public and see anyone who doesn’t
and city cops still live in the suburbs
and every time a new controversy is unearthed
we focus on the who what how and when
every detail, blind to the wider trend because...
one bad cop is a problem
but one bad cop is not the problem
one bad department’s a problem
but one bad department is not the problem
one bad politician is a problem
but one bad politician is not the problem
and on the flipside we need a movement
because one good person is not a solution
(Tish Jones):
Is this a call to action or dissatisfaction we feel
Both: impact, analysis, what’s happenin’ is ill
Still feelin’ like a fraction ‘cause I’m Black and in the field
In the belly of the beast, and it don’t skip meals
To be real: they still eatin’ off the back of we
Imprison us in factories, it’s funny how the past repeats
Or how they mask it with this black ink
Sentence after sentence in the pen, shit is mad deep
Six feet, every 28, that’s a true stat
Lookin’ at the boys in blue like where yo noose at
Judge and the jury like where the fuck the truth at
And bodies of my people on the ground like too bad
Hopin’ this song is a bullet I’m trying to shoot back
Empty out the chamber change the balance give the youth gas
Let a pseudo-ally know to take a step or two back
And call the problem white supremacy because we know that
one bad cop is a problem
but one bad cop is not the problem
one bad department’s a problem
but one bad department is not the problem
one bad politician is a problem
but one bad politician is not the problem
so many names that will never be forgotten
cameraphone’s up stay watchin’ the watchmen, yo
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7. |
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(Lucien Parker)
There’s a lot of venom in the world of snakes
There’s a lot of snakes in a room of hate
There’s a lot of bodies in the pavement
There’s a lot of people gettin’ caged in
There’s a lot of boys from the hood, you know, boyz in the hood
I ain’t live there but my boys from the hood
And we make it either way; we got philosophies for life
Got a movement and passion for the stage and holdin’ mics
Those my heroes right there, my people right there
Swingin’ back when they know the world won’t fight fair
My heroes right there yeah my n****s from the lows
Made a future for themselves killin’ rhymes writin’ flows
Be anything that you want to be
Though the cops still out tryin’ to hunt for me
Still sittin’ carefree, hangin’ in the trees
They won’t get me by the neck at a thousand feet
We just way up
(Guante)
what’s a hundred grand to a dead man?
what’s a diamond to a corpse?
every car in my entourage has a casket in the back
how about yours?
how about force feedin’ you every quarter that you owe us
all american, you’re arrogant and forced to take a bonus
like that’s “just how the system works, kid”
but you can’t slap a system and you’re sittin’ right here cursin’
it’s so imperfect, so unfair
I know, I know, I know: “not all millionaires” right?
not all men, not all white folks
repeatin’ it as you’re leavin’ in the last life boat
the titanic was too big to fail too
so your driver, your cook, that kid in the mail room
shout to every iceberg sweatin’
it’s a threat and it’s a promise the atlantic in my pocket and it’s cold
I don’t condone violence
but what I do and don’t condone doesn’t matter, ‘cause I hold no control
over the overflow, over the open road
leadin’ up to rome, vandals with me, tryin’ to go for broke
‘cause going for rich, corrodes your soul slow and
all of my heroes were broke, but never broken
.why the hell do we glorify wealth
when every fortune is made on the pain of someone else?
who’s that on my evening newscast
frontin’ like the noose ain’t connected to the bootstraps
You pull up the latter, they pull up the former
present a counternarrative the judge calls for order
present a counternarrative and fail the assignment
present a counternarrative the police shoot
present a counternarrative it’s not american
although the counternarrative’s the only narrative that’s true
america the beautiful
a golden parachute a golden coffin at your funeral
a golden boy a golden destiny second to none
But it ain’t me, It ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son
it ain’t me, it ain’t me, my inherited wealth
is just a story and a song, a message, a fight
so when you ask what the name on my ballot is
i’m votin’ for donald trump...’s head on a pike
rich man tryin’ to buy his way to heaven
with a head start cruisin’ but losin’ the momentum
if it’s class war they want, we’ll bring ‘em armageddon
solidarity drippin’ from our lips like venom
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8. |
Quicksand
04:18
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Upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, waist-deep in quicksand, I need a second to process. After all, this is fiction made flesh; it’s like going to the zoo and seeing a mermaid. So my first response, naturally, is to tell him:
Hey, um, I’m pretty sure that I read somewhere that quicksand isn’t actually dangerous, that this idea of a patch of sandy water sucking a person down into oblivion is just a tall tale, a trope to build tension in early 1960s westerns. In real life, yeah, I mean, you can get caught in quicksand, but it’s not really that hard to get out. So are you sure you’re sinking in quicksand?
He sinks.
My words don’t seem to have any effect. So being an open-minded, progressive individual, I reevaluate. Maybe quicksand is real. So what now? My second response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, chest deep in quicksand is, before I actually do anything, to make sure that I have the whole picture. I mean, what was this guy doing out here in the jungle all alone? Did he step into that quicksand on purpose? Was he asking for it? Does he have a criminal record? Maybe I should wait until all the facts come in.
He sinks.
And again, being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. I want to help
So my third response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, neck deep in quicksand is to, obviously, recite a poem. To throw some spirit energy his way. To describe, out loud, just how heavy my heart is. I take a piece of paper out of my backpack, and with a pen, I write “quicksand is bad and I am an ally to people who fall in it.” I pin that piece of paper to my chest. I take out my phone and I tweet “when are we going to wake up? #quicksand.”
He sinks.
And being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide that this isn’t enough, that we, as a society, need to address the root causes of people sinking in quicksand. So my fourth response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, forehead-deep in quicksand, is to take a moment and really acknowledge and think about my privilege as someone who is not sinking in quicksand. I vow to take a class, to challenge my friends when they make quicksand-related jokes, to be more mindful of how I navigate the world.
He sinks.
And being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide that the time for words has passed; now is the time for action. So my fifth response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, disappeared into quicksand, is… is…
We can’t allow ourselves to forget what happened here. I know we need to do something, to put up a sign, to educate people, to build a bridge over this patch of quicksand. I just don’t have any wood. I just have this backpack full of paper and pens and rope; what can one person do?
I imagine my lungs filling with mud. Black earth. Brown water. The hike back to my hotel will be full of reflection. I say a prayer under my breath. It’s the least I can do.
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9. |
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(SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE)
Look: we gotta have a conversation, talk it out
When it’s time for visibility gotta get out the house
And when it’s time to make a move we gotta walk it out
When the people at the top talk slop we pull the bottom out
What are you all about? Go ‘head and shout it out
See something, say something, go ahead and call it out
Before we didn’t know we weren’t alone we’re all around
If you believe the time is now, take a solemn vow
Learn, support, share, report
Build rapport, educate the poor
Voice can be directed flow like traffic signs from out the mouth
Toxins fallin’ out from back of truck you gotta stop reroute
Can’t push it forward give it gas and send it on the town
Holla loud what’s not allowed by concert crowds get on ‘em now
Learn, teach, build, connect
Challenge, question, think, dissent
Once you see it doesn’t have to see
You’re either givin’ into apathy
Or livin’ in a fantasy
You go ahead now…
(Guante):
and we ask ourselves: whose voices are valued
we ask ourselves- whose perspectives are accepted
we ask ourselves- who is given the benefit of the doubt
in a country where your money’s the measurement of your clout
and your skin color and gender identity are policed
often by the actual police! we ask ourselves
is there a sentence that’s suitable
when this prison culture itself is so cruel and unusual
not to mention ineffective
not to mention racist homophobic transphobic and sexist
not to mention whatever I forgot to mention
the new dimensions to the system they don’t wanna mention
so let’s mention it let’s make noise it’s
a family reunion in the union of our voices
and if you didn’t know this family’s loud
so let’s bring every wall on this planet down, and go ahead now
Once you see it doesn’t have to see
You’re either givin’ into apathy
Or livin’ in a fantasy
You go ahead now…
(Guante):
I’m not racist but…
is usually how racist people start sayin’ racist stuff
and self-proclaimed allies get side-eyed
‘cause the same idea still relates to us
and look: I got no advice to give
no wisdom to share, no answers to be laid bare
just my experience, my fear and perseverance
all my insecurities and every value I believe in
like, whether poison berries, wildflowers or crops
everyone plants seeds whether they know it or not
so I’m just tryin’ to look out at my garden
and be more intentional about the life I wanna harvest
and as always, that is not enough
it’s a start, but a match in the dark is not the sun
and tears of guilt, tears of realization, either way
they are no substitute for rain
you don’t beat racism by bein’ a better person
you beat it by destroyin’ the system that undergirds it
this decision to see past the surface
is not the last step it’s the first it’s a trade of
all my good intentions for a patch of wet earth
‘cause it always comes down to the work
and maybe we are all lost, all imperfect and unworthy
but we can all get our hands dirty
...so go ahead now
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Guante Minneapolis, Minnesota
a love song, a death rattle, a battle cry.
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