Hey Mister…

Hey Mister, why’d you kill my brother? I mean he ain’t my real brother, but mamma said us black folk gotta stick together…so why’d you kill him? He was minding his business from what I’d seen. Did you see his tenacious spirit as he walked with a limp?

Did you hear the baritone beating of his courageous heart and it frightened you? I’m trynna comprehend mister. My brother is my lover, my father, & my son–without him there’s no me? Is that what you want? Yeah, I see it in your chastising eyes…you want me dead too!

My people raised your pink ass, we taught you everything you know! We assimilated to make you feel comfortable, kept quiet when we wanted to shout but you killed us anyway.

Just a sport for you and your colleagues to gawk and laugh at. But when we stand for ourselves by ourselves we are labeled “ungrateful negras” or niggers as you so eloquently and affectionate call us in the privacy of your own home.

You hate our names, our walk, our talk, and even our persevering spirit. You try to break us by using our complexion against us, comparing our features to animals and yet you love us!

Your women copy our styles to get your attention, mock our bodies by transforming into us. My breast are bigger, hips wider, and back is stronger, not to clean, cook, or nurse your dumb babies but to birth and rule this world!

Look deep inside you’ll see me. Mmmmm hmmm, you’ll see I gave birth to you many moons ago by the Congo. On my hips I carried you and taught you life lessons. With my breast I fed you love, discipline, and showed you grace. Your father, my husband, that you hate so much taught you to fight. He taught you how to survive, to be a leader…but like how lucifer rebelled against God, you turned from us.

Hmm, I know why you killed him mister. You’d killed him cause you saw him in you. You couldn’t take him being favored by God. You couldn’t withstand his many blessing no longer…Cain is what I’ll call you mister. You killed Able. You killed my brother mister for your own selfish gain.

Don’t feel good huh? A guilty mind speaks loudly at night. Your mind tries to justify what you did, but your heart knows you killed a part of you. I forgive you mister, but I will never forget the day you killed my brother.

-LaMonda A. Sykes, May 27,2015

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