Golgotha is no physical location
. . . is no moral lesson to be posited to the willing and the listening.
Jesus was blood
and packeged for voyage
carried on slaveships along with 5 million hearts in holding
no blood- not one drop was spilled as they left the ivory coast
and we drank
that the unrest in our spirits
At the dock
White men, observing our supposed stupor
demanded what remained of our bloated bellies move out of his vessels
and onto auction blocks no bigger than the spirits of beasts.
what can be found here ain’t salvation
what dignity can be had in enslavement?
what humanity in de-humanizing?
what song in the chorus of screaming?
chains. . .
made legacy songs.
formed dark notes
with sinister organs
and we sang gospel roused of this filth.
it can only be seen as the grace of energies . . .
that we held some part of our spirit indigenous
dere is another Black man dead. dere is always another Black man dead. always another Brown stained trauma to be swallowed. always fire and destruction and always rape. always bullets flyin at targets marked for death before spirit gave them melanin an mother gave them life.
in an attempt to not seem completely obvious there is a turn- a narrative of charity. somethin wid children. and fund raisin.
and always ah find it necessary to find time to remind mahself dat dey news is lies- dangerous ones
an babylon is castin spells ‘gainst us constantly an dats mighty tough
but we ain’t all ugly, water dry, and without patterns.
we love patterns
an royal colors
an Black is de color of folk who have moved galaxies wid our mind and hold anecdotes for stress in de smiles we so lovingly exchange
Africa is our sacred womb. she calls and inspires. waters our minds and she is de only thing close to a God we has.
our higher mother- ah wish ta find mahself enamored over an over
she chants us out of babylon an reminds us dat all things queer, Black, natural an otherwise was born of her
lies, convincing as they can be, cannot cast any shade on what creation is- on wat we is
rivers tellin horses
emancipation an jubilee.
an so Black is also de color of power and endurance. it is de color of those unmoved by the supposedly impressive. it is a love song an war cry. it is community tone an spirit an it can never be painted wicked by a few capitalist seeking profit from sensation.
Two of my favorite artists are two controversial and powerful African men. Chris Ofili and Yinka Shonibare have become notorious for their work. Ofili is an artist known for using dried elephant dung as the base of his canvasses and paints provocative images of Black womyn. His painting, “The Holy Virgin Mary” was so controversial that former NY mayor Rudy G. attempted to have it removed from an exhibit calling it disgusting. Shonibare is known for creating elaborate Victorian clothes out of kente cloth. His most famous piece is “Scramble for Africa” a display depicting the breaking up of Africa by wealthy European nations. Below are some of my favorite pics of them and their work. The message is up for interpretation but the talent is undeniable.
In the words of author Chinua Achebe: “Africa has done a lot of listening, now it’s time for the rest of the world do listen to us.”