Where the hell is pure
A couple of ideas/ readings/thoughts driving this poem:
1. I often reflect on Gabrielle Union's letter to herself in the October Issue (2012) of Essence Magazine in which she writes to her younger self/ other women about loving her "deep Mahogany skin" and generally, colorism in the Black community and in Hollywood. Everytime I post A Letter from the Young, I think of it.
2. I just read this article on BBC about colorism in Africa: Africa: Where black is not really beautiful. My problem with the general debate on colorism in Africa, which I have heard many others echo, is with this notion that women and men who bleach their skins are more insecure, less conscious, have more self esteem issues, and/or are more susceptible to subscribing to the "white supremacist mentality" than the rest of us. In some circles, they are even vilified.
I truly believe that this is unfair. Firstly, saying that African women/men who bleach their skin do not love being Black or do not think Black is beautiful is too simplistic and denies/ignores the complex sociocultural realities they navigate. Secondly, colorism is but is not an individual problem per say and thus shaming one person or what is usually done, African women in general, is not helpful. The blame is misplaced. To me, there are no levels of susceptibility to white supremacist mentality; in more ways than one, we are all afflicted.
3. I came across the photo below on tumblr and began an intense research on African scarification early this morning. Some of what I read on scarification frame it as a "tattoo for darker skin" and there is a lot of commentary on scarification and perceptions of beauty, strength, identity, and community in Africa.
4. A long time ago, in my early teens, I heard from somewhere, somehow that Black people are the descendants of Cain. The story goes that Cain had an anger problem, he disobeyed God, killed his brother, and as part of his punishment, God changed his skin from white to black. I do not believe the story (or any other biblical interpretations or justifications of race) but I do not mind it either; it has always just "sat with me".
And then I learned of the curse of Ham; Noah cursed his son and his descendents and being Black was the punishment of choice. I also think about depictions of white Jesus and white angels and whiteness and purity. I have been reflecting on a question I return to quite often - who/what did my ancestors worship before Christianity, Islam, Judaism? What did their god(s) have to say about the essence of who they are?
So putting all of these things together, essentially, what I am doing in this poem is taking the story of Cain and "running with it". I want to suggest that Cain's anger is righteous and his punishment, of him and his progeny being "dark skinned" or "black", is not his affliction but rather, God's.
Where the hell is pure
They say dark bodies hold a lot of negative energy
So from the beginning, from creation, you are the curse of Cain
You have betrayed your god
The first child on earth, you are the immaculate conception of the fruit of sin in which you were conceived
You are angry, you are a beast
You are not human
You are Eve, you are an ape
You are the first act of sin
You are the only sin, you are rebellion
You are darkness repressing the likeness of man to divinity
The universe between near-touching hands in The Creation of Adam
You are unpardonable.
“Why are you so angry?” the Lord asked Cain.
What is anger but knowing from birth that you will never see heaven?
The sun will beat on your skin, your blood will toil the earth for time eternity
Your spirit will rest on the ocean floor
Even when god drowns the earth and envisions his work anew, your name is Curse
For you have seen the nakedness of the lord
The immorality of wisdom, of revelation
The impurity of consciousness
You are Ham's sons
You are Canaan, you are Cush
Your sin is the silver of grace you see in the lining of that which god made of you
Your transgression is your irreverence of authority
You will be slave to the chosen ones
You are always the example through whom he will teach his sons a lesson
You are cursed.
You are the riches of the earth
You are Ethiopia, You are Egypt
You are not Eden but at least you are not compelled to worship
You will scar your face and stretch your lip and cut the pleasure of your women
So you are free but you are angry
You are the only sin, you are rebellion
But, Cain, nothing is empty, love,
Dark matter too has mass
You may not be in the likeness of the creator but you are the potter's mud
You are choice.
Poems for 72 Days, Poem 15
1. I often reflect on Gabrielle Union's letter to herself in the October Issue (2012) of Essence Magazine in which she writes to her younger self/ other women about loving her "deep Mahogany skin" and generally, colorism in the Black community and in Hollywood. Everytime I post A Letter from the Young, I think of it.
2. I just read this article on BBC about colorism in Africa: Africa: Where black is not really beautiful. My problem with the general debate on colorism in Africa, which I have heard many others echo, is with this notion that women and men who bleach their skins are more insecure, less conscious, have more self esteem issues, and/or are more susceptible to subscribing to the "white supremacist mentality" than the rest of us. In some circles, they are even vilified.
I truly believe that this is unfair. Firstly, saying that African women/men who bleach their skin do not love being Black or do not think Black is beautiful is too simplistic and denies/ignores the complex sociocultural realities they navigate. Secondly, colorism is but is not an individual problem per say and thus shaming one person or what is usually done, African women in general, is not helpful. The blame is misplaced. To me, there are no levels of susceptibility to white supremacist mentality; in more ways than one, we are all afflicted.
3. I came across the photo below on tumblr and began an intense research on African scarification early this morning. Some of what I read on scarification frame it as a "tattoo for darker skin" and there is a lot of commentary on scarification and perceptions of beauty, strength, identity, and community in Africa.
4. A long time ago, in my early teens, I heard from somewhere, somehow that Black people are the descendants of Cain. The story goes that Cain had an anger problem, he disobeyed God, killed his brother, and as part of his punishment, God changed his skin from white to black. I do not believe the story (or any other biblical interpretations or justifications of race) but I do not mind it either; it has always just "sat with me".
And then I learned of the curse of Ham; Noah cursed his son and his descendents and being Black was the punishment of choice. I also think about depictions of white Jesus and white angels and whiteness and purity. I have been reflecting on a question I return to quite often - who/what did my ancestors worship before Christianity, Islam, Judaism? What did their god(s) have to say about the essence of who they are?
So putting all of these things together, essentially, what I am doing in this poem is taking the story of Cain and "running with it". I want to suggest that Cain's anger is righteous and his punishment, of him and his progeny being "dark skinned" or "black", is not his affliction but rather, God's.
Where the hell is pure
They say dark bodies hold a lot of negative energy
So from the beginning, from creation, you are the curse of Cain
You have betrayed your god
The first child on earth, you are the immaculate conception of the fruit of sin in which you were conceived
You are angry, you are a beast
You are not human
You are Eve, you are an ape
You are the first act of sin
You are the only sin, you are rebellion
You are darkness repressing the likeness of man to divinity
The universe between near-touching hands in The Creation of Adam
You are unpardonable.
“Why are you so angry?” the Lord asked Cain.
What is anger but knowing from birth that you will never see heaven?
The sun will beat on your skin, your blood will toil the earth for time eternity
Your spirit will rest on the ocean floor
Even when god drowns the earth and envisions his work anew, your name is Curse
For you have seen the nakedness of the lord
The immorality of wisdom, of revelation
The impurity of consciousness
You are Ham's sons
You are Canaan, you are Cush
Your sin is the silver of grace you see in the lining of that which god made of you
Your transgression is your irreverence of authority
You will be slave to the chosen ones
You are always the example through whom he will teach his sons a lesson
You are cursed.
You are the riches of the earth
You are Ethiopia, You are Egypt
You are not Eden but at least you are not compelled to worship
You will scar your face and stretch your lip and cut the pleasure of your women
So you are free but you are angry
You are the only sin, you are rebellion
But, Cain, nothing is empty, love,
Dark matter too has mass
You may not be in the likeness of the creator but you are the potter's mud
You are choice.
Poems for 72 Days, Poem 15
Nice. I like where your inspiration sprang from. So is it a poem everyday?
ReplyDeleteThanks Mukeke. A poem a day was the original idea - everyday from September, I believe, until the end of 2012. I can only write on deep inspiration however and often on impulse so I decided to just write when I can, for however long, until I reach 72 poems and...then come up with a new objective.
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