A 7th Grade Student’s Poem for Black Lives in Los Angeles

J.T.Leave a comment

Black Potential

by Te’Aunee Turner

We are BLACK, We are BROWN and we are even more than what they make us seem.

They make us seem weak, worthless, and they use us as scapegoats.
But the fact is
We are
Preachers,
Teachers,
Singers,
Fighters, and
Leaders.

Don’t you try to put US down because they already tried,

They insulted us like HARRIET TUBMAN
They abused us like EMMETT TILL
They disenfranchised us like MARTIN LUTHER KING JR.
THEY EVEN TRIED TO MAKE US SLAVES,
BUT WE BROKE THEM DAMN CHAINS.

WE are BLACK
I am BLACK
I AM BLACK
I am BRAVE, COURAGEOUS, and DETERMINED
And let it be known,
I ain’t no BURDEN.

So do not UNDERESTIMATE our potential,
MY POTENTIAL
My BLACK POTENTIAL.

Because Harriet Tubman helped free her people from chains,
So Rosa could sit,
So Martin could march,
And finally, so Obama could lead.

I can be the next Michelle
I can be the next Harriet
I can be the next Maya Angelou,
This is because of African-American leaders who fought for our Rights.

Now, I fight for my Rights.

About the author: Te’Aunee Turner is a 7th grade student in Los Angeles. In Te’Aunee’s own words, she hopes her poem shows others “[that] being equal is not treating someone with an advantage because they’re in a higher class, or taking advantage of others because they don’t have money. This is how our great African American leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. and Nipsey Hussle got killed. The whole point of this is for people to see others for who they really are so we can treat each other more equally.”

Te’Aunee’s sister, Dasia, and Language Arts teacher, Ms. Morales, also provided support for this poem.

J.T.

Waiting Again, Los Angeles

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We wait and we wait and we wait. Patiently. Lovingly. Anguished.

We wait for our schools to be safe,
For our streets to be cleaned,
For our vecindades to have jobs,
And for our families to walk through these spaces without being criminalized.

We wait for newcomers to stop leering at us as if we entered their havens.
For our landlords to answer our calls,
For the faucets to have clean water and our roofs to stop caving in on us every time it rains,
And for real estate agents to stop selling out the only places we call home.

We wait for the clinics to admit us without first labeling us,
For our doctors to work with instead of just getting rid of us,
For our ‘coverage’ to stay put without our having to reapply,
And for healthcare that isn’t based on our (in)ability to pay.

We wait for the few jobs we do have to pay livable wages,
For our superiors at work to stop bullying us,
For interviewers to stop merely using our names to cross off some checklist,
And to work to uplifit our communities rather than to addict them.

We wait for billionaires to stop bloating our veins,
For ‘checks and balances’ to check and balance the polluters,
For the GMs and the Coca Colas, to be reined in,
And for ‘leaders’ who don’t call for these things only when it’s election season.

We also wait for the courts to stop feeding on our bodies as these other waits hold,
For any allies in our resistance in these struggles to view us as partners, not collateral,
We wait for this other way of life to finally arrive,
And we wait for it to get here before it’s too late for one more of our babies.

We wait patiently. Lovingly. Anguished.

But the past has yet to die.

When is it time, Los Angeles.

J.T.