Black village tax

They say it takes a village to raise a child.
And that may be true.
But I’m here to talk about the other side of that coin.
The receipt for that village.

Because what they don’t tell you is that it also takes a village
to raise a dollar.
It takes a village to raise economic wealth.
It takes a village to raise economic change.
It takes a village to raise social change.

We talk about the village raising the child, but who’s raising the village?

I’m tired of looking at our black and brown buddies,
caved in deep depression.
Wondering when the phone will ring.
Wondering when the check will clear.
Wondering when we will not have to leave the charge,
just to keep the lights on.

They want our solidarity.
They love the truth of our reprise.
They love the rhythm of our speaking up.
They love the echo of our voices ringing out…

…but mostly for their campaign.
Mostly for their photo op.
Mostly for their platform.

Cause if you’re not a part of the 92%,
if your plan doesn’t start and end in the village,
I don’t think you understand the message.
We are not a choir for your solo.
We are not a step stool for your stage.

I’d rather uplift our own.
I’d rather seed our own source.
I’d rather fund our own fund.
I’d rather build our own table.

Because the truth is too loud to ignore:
Black boys and brown girls are already targeted.
By police. By policy. By a system that draws a target on their back before they can even spell their name.

So we don’t need more speeches.
We need shields.
We need to uplift them.
Protect them.
Keep them in a safe space where they can exhale.

Where they know they are loved.
Not for their profit margin.
Not for their utility.
Not for their talent to be exploited.
But for the curve of their lips when they laugh.
For their attributes, their kindness, the size of their hearts.
We love them for them.

But don’t get it twisted.
We also keep that gutter.
Because we know you can’t know where you’re going
if you’re ashamed of where you came from.
The concrete taught us. The stoop taught us. The struggle taught us.
That’s the foundation.

And if anybody asks you, you tell ‘em straight.
It was purposeful to be black.
It is an honor to be black.
It is graceful to be black.
It is the highest regard to be black.

Not in spite of the struggle, but because of how we built through it.
Because black is not just a color.
Black is not just a culture.

Black is greatness.
And greatness requires a village.
Let’s build ours.

rap, female, hip hop