Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts

"I love you, Mama, but I must be frank. Why did you allow us to worship at a white altar? Why do you continue to send me Easter cards? Why, even now, following tragedy after tragedy, crisis after crisis, do you still send my brother to that school where he is taught to feel inferior, taught to accept the disgusting, and forced to waste his precious time and talent on the totally useless -- learning a language that no one has spoken in fifteen hundred years?! His individuality will be discouraged and he will be made into a non-person, an intellectual dependent. He will learn that sex is bad, which is a lie. That Jesus Christ was white, which is a lie. That the Egyptians were white, which is a lie. That the people of India are white under their black skin. That the Chinese are yellow, when they range from brown to the blackest black. If he is taught that the right things are wrong and the wrong things are right, do you not realize he will grow up confused, just as I did? What opinion will he have of himself? This is the height of disrespect! I understand why the mindless pursue the favor and affection of an insensitive and implacable opponent, but I cannot understand why they insist on planting those ideals in the minds of their children. They go through life discovering that this enemy cannot be appeased, that he is relentless, calloused beyond repair, dedicated to personal financial success, heedless to its cost in human suffering. Yet when the child comes along, instead of acting upon these discoveries in a positive way, they lie, pretend, and defend their inaction and collaboration, head down, shoulders bent, nose stained brown. What is wrong with you, Mama? Why do you try to make cowards of us? I love you, Mama, and I thank you dearly for trying to cushion the shocks and strains that history has made it our lot to have to endure, but don’t make me waste my time and energy winning you to a position that you should already support with all your sympathies. I feel that you have failed me Mama. I 'know' that you have failed me." - G. Jackson

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"I love you, Mama, but I must be frank. Why did you allow us to worship at a white altar? Why do you continue to send me Easter cards? Why, even now, following tragedy after tragedy, crisis after crisis, do you still send my brother to that school where he is taught to feel inferior, taught to accept the disgusting, and forced to waste his precious time and talent on the totally useless -- learning a language that no one has spoken in fifteen hundred years?! His individuality will be discouraged and he will be made into a non-person, an intellectual dependent. He will learn that sex is bad, which is a lie. That Jesus Christ was white, which is a lie. That the Egyptians were white, which is a lie. That the people of India are white under their black skin. That the Chinese are yellow, when they range from brown to the blackest black. If he is taught that the right things are wrong and the wrong things are right, do you not realize he will grow up confused, just as I did? What opinion will he have of himself? This is the height of disrespect!

I understand why the mindless pursue the favor and affection of an insensitive and implacable opponent, but I cannot understand why they insist on planting those ideals in the minds of their children. They go through life discovering that this enemy cannot be appeased, that he is relentless, calloused beyond repair, dedicated to personal financial success, heedless to its cost in human suffering. Yet when the child comes along, instead of acting upon these discoveries in a positive way, they lie, pretend, and defend their inaction and collaboration, head down, shoulders bent, nose stained brown. What is wrong with you, Mama? Why do you try to make cowards of us? I love you, Mama, and I thank you dearly for trying to cushion the shocks and strains that history has made it our lot to have to endure, but don’t make me waste my time and energy winning you to a position that you should already support with all your sympathies.

I feel that you have failed me Mama. I 'know' that you have failed me." - G. Jackson
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"Summertime in Montana is a special sight to see / There's no place I'd rather be / than in the state whose initials are M-T" - Link Starbureiy

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"Summertime in Montana is a special sight to see / There's no place I'd rather be / than in the state whose initials are M-T" - Link Starbureiy
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"At its core / a computer is little more / than circuits and logic." - Link Starbureiy

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"At its core / a computer is little more / than circuits and logic." - +Link Starbureiy
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