The city that exists today
Is not the one my grandparents dreamed
We could grow up in
They hoped we would be surrounded by the culture they worked hard to instill inside of their sons
Sending them to primarily black schools
But less than 30 years later
Black students are left searching the classroom on the first day
Praying to God there would be someone who looks like me in my class
Just this year. I’m begging
But the city they knew was dying well before them
And I know that if they rose from their grave
They could not recognize the blocks they raised their sons on
The place where their old homes lay
Have been replaced with yoga studios and shops
And the same blocks where they had to be home before the streetlights
Because the risk for three young black men in this city
Was too high
For them to wander too far from their neighborhood
And even staying close
Was risky
And the same cops who harrassed their sons
Grew old and trained the ones
Who now refer to my friends as boy
Instead of the sir that
Their 20 years of life has gained them the respect to have
Questioning what they are doing out so late
In a neighborhood that once belonged to their parents
But now belongs to more black lives matter signs
Than it does black people
Because redlining stole entire homes from under our feet
And replaced it with entertainment venues
Because capital is much more important
Than black humanity
And the business that once existed to support their community
Can no longer exist
Because the community has been forced to out of a place
They were truly never welcomed in to begin with
And sometimes time is not a healer
But a chance for history to repeat itself
For gentrification is just a fancy word
For modern colonization
-j-
Author: Jasmine Barber
Email: [email protected]
Author Bio: My name is Jasmine Barber. I am 20 years old and a black poet who lives in Portland, Oregon.
Link to social media or website: Instagram @poetryfromj
