INDENTURED.

Our reception was met with fear, removed from the warm confines of our homes. Familiarity is now a thing of memories. Our reception was met with obscenities, acknowledgement of singular names will be absent. Our reception was met with poking, prodding and parading. Physical attributes and inspection of health is imperative. A dollar amount was paid for the delivered flesh, return on investment will be had. Placement amongst peers is not at one’s own volition. Separable cultures, native tongue and ethnic identity is no longer acceptable in this space; you are now a face amongst the crowd. But somehow, I’m a “nigger”.

Cogs of the machine created the motion to propel the behemoth forward. Accomplished erasure of individual identity is celebrated by the overseers. Balance is essential, weight of power within must be established in the rank and file collection. Few pieces will be more vital than others; unequal privilege is needed to administer. Shade made evident, drawn by perspective – not all are created equally – but will be directed to delegate cooperation of the group in the stead of authority. Divided they will be, but options are limited. Follow in step. A coordinated effort of movement made successful by a conscious effort to unite. There’s power in numbers, as long as the power comes first. Donned in similar cheap garb, elbow to elbow during meals of misfortune, the beatings and teachings of low self-worth are equally instilled; the guilt of existence is present in every fiber of each mind. The forced march in song, with every step masked the pain. A distraction of the new days to come, the cogs continue to move the beast. Somehow, I’m still called “nigger”.

The manumission is imperative, trailing behind like a shadow is the vulnerable and empty mind. A graduate of maturation into heightened self-worth and doubt adversely celebrate in unison. Innately, exceeding even fundamental expectations is as daunting as walking by faith in a world that has none. Bonded by blood spilled, yet still a world apart. A willingness to assimilate into a culture that is overshadowed by typecasts, holding on to a desire to be separated and cycle back to the inherent self; a stark reintroduction to familiarity returns. A shared immunity from repeated history fills the voids of the empty mind, a forever binding mental entity. The feeling of being liberated by an overbearing caste system still lingers, attempts to overstep are met with resistance. Now, its “we”. Now, it’s recognized that WE are “niggers”, collectively. A jaded idea of beings who will progress without fear, grow against resistance and remain steadfast when at odds with opposing tides.

Oh, the fucking audacity.