Day 3 (late, I'm sloppy but I come bearing gifts, longwinded ones of course)

Longwood&Muirkirk

1.
12:30 am
Longwood & MuirkirK
The parts of Maryland
Ade would say shouldn’t exist
barely do
because they can’t be driven through,
look like a joke for driving through

Parts of P.G County
no where near where
I was born
too far from blackness and
D.arker C.orners
I have adapted myself to

Would still look
Strange and longwinded
by daylight
But it doesn’t matter
because its dark here
and unfortunately
So am I

2.

The irony of
my recent paranoia
around police and
the fact that they are
the only ones that can help me
makes stomach acids burn
the roof of my mouth
Hoping to get rid of
any left over home food
seeping through any of my pores
hinting at my Africanness

In my stark realization of
race relations in Maryland
Being Black is one thing
But Nigerians have an
unbreakable pride
from the structures
on West African maps
constructed by a white man
allowing them to exhibit a pride
tied to Whiteness too

And pride,
snaps a lot louder
under the weight of racism
Perfect for sadist
looking to get
a kick out of something

And it's 12:30 in the morning

3.
The Black woman on the telephone sends
Three officers
Three
white
officers
All
White,
White,
White
Male
All White Male officers

Relief is mixed with sweat
Blaming itself for the
nerve to be attention calling
to smell like fresh blood
Like unbroken blood
Like countries situated
on the Motherland's map
as a left ovary
as everything vital
What some call
The trigger on Africa’s
gun

Sweat smells like
Perspiration on
a leather wallet
from the trigger of Africa’s gun
Blaming itself
for having the nerve to be attention calling
for bearing the name of a
23-year-old Guinean immigrant
in New York City
Born near the trigger of Africa’s gun

Blaming itself for being magnetic
to flying lead
Blaming itself for being magnetic
too much like metals that make guns
Blaming itself for being too magnetic
and not magnetic enough
to protect someone
from a police officer
to protect the world
from the realizations
about race relations
that would be brought forth
in its aftermath

4.

I had the nerve to call them to me
to wear my Muslimness
So proudly
So secretly
headscarf vs. Hijab
had never been an issue of ethnicity

Tonight I hope I picked the right one
and that looking “Afrocentric”
is not worse
than being clearly Muslim

Hoping cultural ambiguity will
not reveal the insecurities
and that if it does
they will be the pitiful kind
not the kind worth preying on

Hoping that its not worse to be
a joke of a Muslim
Black
(maybe, but hopefully not clearly African)
woman
Than it is to be incredibly Black

Or that it is better to be a
clearly confused
Black woman than
a proud
African
Muslim one

A dark face
and a Muslim name

A Nigerian
dark face
wondering if it would be
better to look more Black instead
and the name
Murktarat
Parallels
A dark face
A Guinean dark face
that may have been better off
looking more Black instead
and the name
Amadou
More than I am willing
to bear

5.

As if he can’t see the fear
I have made sure
to put in my eyes,
Hoping blatant weakness
is pitiful and not the kind
worth preying on,
I have never begged so much for
a police to follow me
or wanted one to
or been made to feel safer by ones presence

Irony is rude and obnoxious
she is un-lady like
loud and never subtle
and tonight is no exception

I had the nerve to call them
to me
Keeping enemies close
this close and being vulnerable
They can’t hurt you
can hurt you more
Can hurt you
in more ways than one

My pride is in my stomach
Acids burning
In my head
My pride,
placed
My life
placed in hands
that have been trained
to make it easy
to kill anyone like me
With or with out action
Cuz my pride killed itself
for the greater good
has turned itself to searches for pity
that will let them win
pretending there was actually ever choice
I really just need to make it home tonight

6.

I am no Sean Bell
no Amadou
in more ways than one
(my story will not end the same)
And I have no wife or child
but the mother I have been married to
and the movement I am giving birth to
If I die in this ditch of a city tonight
it will be impossible
to make it on your nightly news

If my name had less of a cacophony of syllables
and I was fairer
I would not have
been scared enough to call the cops
knowing I own this
would only call them
to make use of my tax dollars

Meanwhile,
me, myself
I cannot be sure
how long my mother
has been legal enough
to file her taxes
So I can assume
I am not owed shit

Meanwhile none of this can matter
I am not fairer
I am a Black woman
wishing I had less African feature,
that I didn’t wear them so proudly
Knowing that it wouldn’t be this way
Had I chosen not to

Had I chosen to show some disgust through
bleached skin or unnatural hair
amused them enough
to stick around longer
I wouldn’t have had to beg them to do their job
But dangling is a different kind of fear
Plus,
who knows when my mother
started paying her tax dollars

He
doesn’t care either
Everything he needs to know
about me is written
on my person
and my driver’s license

In uninhabitable parts of
the nations richest Black county
Being a Black woman
scared of a police officer
who probably voted for Obama
The only thing
I can thank God for
at this point
is that
I wasn’t born
a
Black
Man