The following year, Gil Scott-Heron expressed the way many Black Americans felt, with scornful irony, in his poem “Whitey on the Moon”: Was all that money I made las’ year (for Whitey on the moon?) How come there ain’t no money here? (Hmm! Whitey’s on the moon) Y’know, I jus’ ’bout had my fill (of Whitey on the moon.)
