Tonight's Poet Corner: Three Works By Black Poets
Black Privilege by Crystal Valentine On Evaluating Black Privilege. Black privilege is the hung elephant swinging in the room, Is the memory of a slave ship, Praying for the Alzheimer’s to kick in. Black privilege is me having already memorized my nephew’s eulogy, My brother’s eulogy, My father’s eulogy, My unconceived child’s eulogy. Black privilege is me thinking my sister’s name, Safe from that list. Black privilege is me pretending like I know Trayvon Martin on a first name basis, Is me using a dead boy’s name to win a poetry slam, Is me carrying a mouthful of other people’s skeletons To use at my own convenience. Black privilege is the concrete that holds my breath better than my lungs do. Black privilege is always having to be the strong one, Is having a crowbar for a spine, Is fighting even when you have no more blood to give, Even when your bones carried you, Even when your mother prayed for you, Even after they prepared your body for the funeral. Black privilege is being so
