Zu Magazine is a publication of Zu Media. Below is an article from Issue 1: Skins.
Guest Writer | Danielle Harris, B.A.
Danielle Harris is the Program Coordinator for the Student Center for Reconciliation and Diversity at Azusa Pacific University (APU). She graduated from APU in 2015 with her Bachelor’s in sociology and is now pursuing her M.S.
Below is an excerpt from her spoken word:
When I was 11 years old, I was playing outside when I saw a young boy sitting alone; I walked up to him and asked if he wanted to play.
He told me that his mother said, “you are not allowed to play with people who have skin that looks like hers.”
That day I asked God why he made the color of bodily waste hereditary.
When I was in the 10th grade, my teacher instructed a lesson about slavery.
During his lesson, he made me stand in front, segregating my classmates and I like Jim Crow did to black folks in the 60s.
When I was in the 11th grade, a boy cut out a picture of a monkey, taped it to my friend’s school ID and walked around campus telling students that black people really are monkeys.
That day I learned that monkeys meant “Make One Noose Kill Every Young Savage.”
I realized that black was synonymous with savage.
When I was a freshman in college I learned that it was okay to hang a confederate flag in one’s dorm room, but it was not okay to hang pictures of Usher with his shirt off.
That day I realized that a symbol that represents slavery was worth more than the black lives who died for their freedom…And that the confederate flag is less offensive than a man in good shape.
When I was a senior in college I was walking down the street and someone called me a n—–.
That day I was reminded that just because our President was black does not mean that n—– will no longer be seared in my psyche.
I realized that not much is changing and that people still think that we, God’s darkest children, are n—–s.
Dear racism and every white person who sees the word n—– stamped on my forehead,
We are not n—–s
Ignorant is the last word that defines us
We are human
We are human
We are human
Just like you
We are not monkeys, here to dance around in a parade that you are orchestrating
We are human
We are human
We are human
Just like you
We are not words that you can use to plagiarize an essay you’re writing on slavery
We are history, we are truth
We are human
We are human
We are human
Just like you
We are not to be compared to nothing more than bodily waste, but a midnight sky, tree bark, hazelnut cream, and all things sweet, like chocolate
We are human
We are human
We are human
Just like you
We are human
We are human
We are human
Just like you
When people ask me if racism still exist I sometimes think I’m crazy for answering them with,
YES.
Then I remember that I am not looked at as human, that we have not been looked at as human, that we have to write poems to prove that We. Are. Human.