In 1970 I learned my alphabet for the very first time, I knew it by heart in 1971.
A is for Africa
B is for black
C is for culture
and that’s where its at.
My mother taught me that from the way you see alphabetty at a time when
A was for apples in a country that grew mangoes
and X was for xylophone when I was learning how to play the steel band
Black wasn’t popular or even accepted then but I wore dashikis sent to me from Nigeria.
Super fly suits sky blue with the elbow patches sent to me from America
and sandals made by original Rastafari before weed and revolution needed fertilizer to grow.
My mother rocked bright saffron saris
We was phat 20 years too early and a thousand mile removed
My mother preached knowledge, hard work and how not to take shit.
D is for defence
E is for Economics
I wrote my first protest letter at the age of 3 to my grandfather for calling me out of the yard.
Spelling fuck you with an F-O-R-K U
Put it under his pillow hoping it would blow up and burn his hair off at night
wanted to get started on the revolution thang
F is for freedom
G is for guns
we gotta get some
we usually said
Evolved into 1979 and a revolution with a changing face
Bang Bang a boogie to the oogie ya up jump the boogie lets rock ya don’t stop
Black folks and brand names became entwined we reinvented dance and made wheels role… with a limp
Cuba had just told america he was Africa in Angola
K is for kings
L is for Land
we got to get it back
so we lost;
Jamaica to the IMF
Grenada to the marines
and Panama to Nancy Regan
Jerry-Curls became high top fades became Gumby’s became Cesars as Michael Jackson moonwalked his way into a lighter shade of pale.
My mother sent to America and she said go fix that.
K is for kidnap
S is for slavery
we usually explained
Cool became butter became phat
we lost our focus and our way just at about the time that black folk outside the nation discovered the dangers of pork.
So fat backs became fat blacks
pigtails became dreadlocks fades faded to bowlers
and Michael Jordan discovered the magic of a fade-away jumper…and endorsments
X is for the nigga who’s blind, deaf, and dumb
X him out we usually said.
My mother told me I should rewrite that
that X is for the nigga who needs to be re-educated, that a corporate job does not spell freedom
Barry White is not racist flight
A democratic vote is not a revolutionary act
And as long as there is a sweat shop in Jakarta there is no difference between Patrick Yewing and O.J. Simpson.
H is for Huey
N is for nocturnal
T is for Tubman
M is for Marcus, Mandella, Marley, and Martin got shot 2 weeks after he told black folk to boycott Coka-A-Cola
and Jessie Jackson still scared of niggas with a purpose.
My mother taught me to respect men who stood by their responsibilities and their convictions
Men willing enough to join the fight but smart enough to survive it and see the signals.
God gave no other rainbow signs
said no more water
but the fire next time
J is for James Baldwin
the next time is now
and someone must learn to read the signs with me
A is for Africa
B is for black
C is for culture
…
and that’s where I’m at.
Poet and spoken-word artist Roger Bonair-Agard was born in Trinidad and Tobago and moved to the United States in 1987. His collections of poetry include Tarnish and Masquerade (2006); Gully (2010); and Bury My Clothes (2013), which was a long-list finalist for a National Book Award. He contributed to the collection Burning Down the House (2000), a selection of poems from the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. He is a two-time National Poetry Slam champion and has appeared on programs such as HBO’s Def Poetry Jam and the PBS NewsHour, among others.
A Cave Canem fellow, Bonair-Agard performs his work and leads workshops internationally. He is writer-in-residence with Vision Into Art and poet-in-residence with Young Chicago Authors. He is the cofounder and artistic director of the louderARTS Project and teaches poetry at the Cook County Temporary Juvenile Detention Facility in Chicago.
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