Where I'm From (A Slam Poem)

Stand up 

And recite the dysfunctional religion created by 

People referred to as Master 

Plastered words into our minds to believe 

That our existence on this earth was a mistake, a sin 

Barefoot our ancestors walked for miles and miles 

With back scars screaming for a voice to save the child 

The same child birthed by a raped negro mother 

That negro child gave birth to a child and that child 

Without a father -

Wonder why teenage fathers of today run away from their responsibilities 

These slave masters were pimps before black folk even thought of the name

I often shun my head away from the black community in shame 

Obama cannot  redeem us as Harriet Tubman freed us 

They inflicted words into our throats to make us believe we need Jesus 

Looking above the sky to the north star, wade in the water 

The same waters that trouble us to this day because we sink in our ignorance 

Frolicked pieces of paper represented our freedom 

One signature by one Master and we thought our shackles were lifted 

Not as in smoking, but as in without the slightest clue that we will never be -

Free 

[A Natural Blessing]

Someone explain the N-word 

Not Nigga but Nappy 

Afro-picks to the kinks make the curls so happy 

Natural is beautiful, even if you refuse to represent it 

Admit it, no relaxer can change the pigment around your laughter 

Skin color is irrelevant 

But unruly heads make society so tender, 

It's a hec-a-hard to separate the ignorant, 

Oops, I meant the "ignant" to the melanin 

Fists of pride we were discovered in 

Still had origin when stripped of rights by the government 

Motivational speakers, activists, we were all of them 

Even with the two strand twists, locks, braids, cornrows, afros, blow-outs & hot-combs 

Hair will never define our capabilities 

So don't limit me to stereotypes because of my originality 

Personality is more than a clenched fist and a microphone, 

And if you don't like it, then you can close your eyes or go home 

Cause I'm gonna wear my afro, you ain't gotta ask bro 

I was born Proud and Pride was a given 

I won't give in to a limited standard 

Straight hair won't tame me, 

A nappy head won't change me 

Accepted or Rejected, 

I am a Natural Blessing 

[Art of Noise]

I'm from a place so authentic that it would be too disrespectful to describe with my intelligence 

So listen with your eyes and see with your ears the feel of what my truth might reveal: 

All of my Grandmother's children have soul from our 8-counts to the bend in our toes 

Arches on our feet so we don't stomp on the spirits setting us free 

Torchetaes and pottybooraes 

We knew these words before we could spell them, let alone pronounce them 

Our rhythm rampaged through our hearts 

There was no such thing as a break 

Next was the buffalo shuffle, another 8-count 

While we could still feel the vibrations from our tap shoes in our sleep 

Every Saturday was a ritual for repentance 

The minute your heels touch the floor of the studio, 

Your sins forgotten, forgiven 

For now is the world that you live in 

For the next 34 saturdays of the year,  

YOU WILL LIVE, EAT, BREATHE, SLEEP AND THINK DANCE. 

Nothing else matters. 

[Speaking] 

I'm from a place where I'm not accepted for who I am. In some way, shape or form, I am always picked apart for my skin color, originality or my body type. So where I'm really from is a phrase. 

"It ain't where you from, it's where you at…"