Mississippi Cotton

I wonder the thoughts that run through a white man’s head when he looks at me
does he call me a “nigger” or does he see the God and intelligence through me
waking up daily to defeat this world of racism,
living in Mississippi doesn’t make it any better
feeling like I’ve got to work twice as hard to be heard,
doesn’t matter how much education I achieve or the fact I pronounce my words correctly,
so, am I still what these white folks think of me?

high yellow, that’s what they call me
no, I don’t think of myself any more highly than the next red bone or chocolate diva
in my eyes, we’re all God’s children
but, each of us have our own stories to tell and have experienced different situations

must say, conservative Christian is a very common term down in these parks
almost like we all serve the same god in our own worlds
last time I checked, God didn’t have a color; nor a face; nor a physical body,
unless you’re talking about the real Christians who stand in physical form for God
no, I don’t think my God has cornrows or dread locks,
nor do I think God is a blonde-hair, blue eyed being
just a disgrace in my sight, if you’ve noticed

Mississippi is so ass-backwards
we can never evolve as a state, nor as a people
just take a rope and lynch me, why don’t you?
but no, we still hold some good people,
with the scriptures of the Bible stitched in their skin
who knew that the past made a brighter future for me, I guess it’s because of my ancestry
I laugh at the people who still refer to my kind as “coons,” “jiggaboos,” or “minstrels,”
I laugh…why?
because God views the hearts of man
he see the anger in their hearts and souls,
they ain’t fooling no one but themselves
acting all high and mighty,
just wanted them to know that they’re no better than me, or my God
the Mississippi cotton that I drive by everyday doesn’t get picked through my hands
no, I don’t think I could’ve survived being anyone’s mammy or slave
but then again, I have become a slave
a slave in thinking that my very being in determined by how much money I make,
how many degrees I hold,
how long I remain a person that isn’t a statistic…

thinking back to the sweaty backs of my grandmother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s
is my future worth giving them the satisfaction of carrying the family’s name well
yes, I believe so,
but I refuse to be some uneducated, poor black welfare queen
however, that’s what I think these white folks think of me when I walk into their stores,
eat in their restaurants
work in their corporate stores and offices,
but why?
because I was told to think like this
brainwashed to believe that God wanted us separate, which is so not so,

now I understand that everything is God’s on this Earth
everything belongs to him,
even the racist minds that still want me to pick this Mississippi Cotton

Mississippi Cotton

Copyright© 2010
De'Shundra Gibson, All Rights Reserved