Red Racism, White Guilt, and the Blues

… As Told in Alliterating Free Verse

Pre-script:

At a school board meeting last night in the central Oklahoma town of Okemah, where I now live and work as the staff reporter for the Okemah News Leader, I watched the board of education unanimously vote to hire the first ever black man as superintendent of schools — a marked milestone missed only by those mistaken or misguided.

It is much proof of progress as we all as people prove we can improve, but there’s still much work to be done if we are to reach the late, great Dr. King’s “City of Equality.”

The poem:

Something about the draping, flowing red, white and blue flag always grabs me — the feeling feels like that of growing guilt behind promoted patriotism and prescribed privilege … I’m white.

With awe and auspicious attitudes, reverence requires redirection to avoid the ache of unseen stains, dotting thoroughly the history of this young country …

For far too long, respecting the rights of the races it represents remained and remains out of reach …

Our colors of red, blue and white pour purple on the pools of people persecuted — active in antiquity, hating throughout history, our now passive persecution presently contrasted with the pain of a people’s progress.

A Presidents’ Day now set aside annually to nationally observe and honor the birthday of the first president of America, the flag reminding us all of the birth of this nation, but the human beings Washington owned as slaves go unmentioned, unremembered … unquestioned goes the pride proudly primed and petty.

Equality eventually eats evil, so hungry for hatred and indefinitely insatiable, starving since slavery …

Now, simply and strongly striving to sufficiently survive, skin scatters stones thrown in a land lauded for morality in a world where we wanted white to win and made it bad luck to be born black.

I scribble these sentiments, sitting cold as I stare at a southern sunrise, wondering when winning with wisdom that wields weapons of compassion, compromise and civility will completely conquer the outdated regiments and routines of rigorous racism.

It’s now March 2019. And through the prior month’s last day, it was Black History Month. How can we honor the history of black people without honestly hearing about the hatred and hurt, the injustice and inequality?

It cannot be done, and I refuse to recognize any real reason for racism, ignoring not the indelible ignorance of antiquated attributes that lead to subscribing to a system wherein skin color scales any structure of significance.

Have we gotten better? Have we progressed? I would say, in general, I think we have, but, then again, as was aforementioned, I’m white. Ask a black person if it feels any better.

As Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

Surely there aren’t still those out there that would say we’ve snuffed out injustice, as if it would erase the errors of evil even if we had.

And while these thoughts should never be far from anyone’s mind, the month of February brought forth a light to shine on a history stained with savagery and strife, so I sat down to write this poem before walking out my door to hopefully join hands with those willing to walk unwavering, again in the words of MLK, “up the highway of freedom toward the city of equality.”