Invisible Bars

by Alecia J

Our people built this country… with no thank you, no paycheck, no freedom! They were raped, beaten, sold, and buried nameless in the soil! And you sit here sipping from your crystal goblet, bragging on folks who would've had us picking cotton barefoot if they had it their way! You think that glass of wine in your hand just appeared? No, that came from generations of survival. And these white folks you love to praise? The ones you smile extra hard at them country club luncheons, trying to blend in with? Those are the same ones who wouldn’t have let your great-granddaddy through the front door! They were the ones buying us, not freeing us! And they damn sure weren’t praying with us either; they were preying on us! So when you say our people, just remember, they’re not just the folks you cut checks to for a catered plate. We’re the descendants of sharecroppers who built the South’s wealth with nothing but calloused hands and stolen time. We’re the prayer warriors, Black mamas who breastfed babies that weren’t ours, men and women who sang through beatings, and granddaddies who got called ‘boy’ after working eighteen-hour shifts. So don’t you ever twist your mouth to say ‘our’ people and invoke them for convenience when you’ve spent years trying to leave us behind!”