by T.A. Jones
I’m proud to be Black.
No ifs, buts, or maybes
about the fact that
I’m proud to be Black.
A culture so rich that it’s
sinking it’s teeth into
parts of the world that
won’t accept me under
any sun that shows the
obsidian melanin with which I was born.
Malice created malign maces
meant to mince the hopes of
Black and brown folk, but
pounded pressure produced
diamonds that shined just as
bright as skin we lived in.
To be Black
is a blessing I was born with,
but I wondered with the
pride to persevere and survive
in a land that used us to the
point of being perturbed
when in our presence,
that I would choose to thrive
with a life that wasn’t a crime
being Black.
Would I rewind time to gain
equity and equality to
where the pain produced
didn’t turn our Black blue
Or
would I accept the life of
mine and others where we
know we’re all sisters and brothers?
Black.
That’s what I am, who am I,
and who I will always be,
but if being black meant
something different,
would I still have that pride
or would I be another version of
White?
T.A. Jones is a Black writer based in Atlanta, Georgia. T.A. is published/featured in Chill Subs, Fahmidan Journal, Sage Cigarettes, Hyacinth Review, Erato Magazine, and That Black Boy Mag, and also has music articles published in CentralSauce. Jones graduated from Western Carolina University.
