All Things Me

okay so i just got my dream job??? a week after applying to it?? and now i’m thinking….maybe this is the good luck post

By all means, talk and raise awareness about depression. But please mention:

Depression is super hard to deal with. I 100% support this list because I feel some people think depression is writing sad poems and that’s its.

What do you see when you look at me? An African American? Just African? Just American? Or just Black? Don’t worry about answering that Truth is I barely know how to answer it myself In the midst of all this talk about appropriation And debates on who can say and do and wear what I sometimes find myself in limbo Wondering exactly what point in time in history did I lose the right to claim my heritage? Was it when they changed my race from African to nigger? Or when they dragged me across the Atlantic, naked and in chains? Or when they ripped my tongue out and forced me to forget my own name? Or how about when they raped my grandmother and called all of us the same? I am Black and proud as hell But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little To be Black is to be an anomaly A melting pot of a race My heritage was erased and replaced with the color that almost everyone hates Black. Not African enough to cling to my ancestry Not American enough to belong What is African American anyway? I have no motherland Just motherhoods where it’s understood that I am forever standing on borrowed ground I have no place to call home And damn near nothing to call my own Everyone gets a piece of Black culture And what do I get? Shunned. Ridiculed. Used. Then discarded. And when I fight for the little bit of something that we made out of nothing and call our own I’m dismissed. Silenced. I am the product of a nation scattered And another built on my back Cut me me some slack I did not ask for this I never disowned the land I came from My memory was whipped and beaten and burned out of me My traditional wear was replaced with potato sacks And the only tribal mark I know is blood And lashes If anything, it is you who disowns your bloodline Black history is African history continued on another continent Yet, instead of embracing your kidnapped cousin You do just like them and say how dare I own where I come from? I have no right I have no place And you have no desire to teach me To help me relearn the part of myself that was excluded from my history books Because you don’t think we’re the same They made sure I forgot my name And now you do the work for them In making sure I never remember what it was Again I ask What do you see when you look at me? All I’m allowed to see is Black.

Reblog if you think black girls are cute

Just a friendly reminder