Cuz' He's Black Poem by Sheila Whiting

so I'm driving down the street With my four-year-old nephew he knocking back a juice box me a fruity Snapple today y'all we are doing manly s*** I love watching the way his mind works he asks a million questions Uncle why is the sky blue uncle how do cars go Uncle why dont dogs talk uncle uncle uncle he asks uncle uncle uncle As if his voice box is a record player I try hard to answer all his questions say that because it's the way the Sun lights up the outer space it's because engines make the wheels go because their minds isn't quite like ours I say yes no no yes no yes no I don't know who knows maybe we laugh he smiles looks out the window spots a cop car drops his seat and says oh man Uncle Five-O we got to hide I'll be honest I'm not happy with the way we raise our black boys don't like the fact that he learned to hide from the cops well before he knew how to read angrier that has survival depends more on his ability to deal with authorities then it doesn't own literacy get up I yell at him in this car in this family we are not afraid of the law I wonder if he can hear the uncertainty in my voice is today the day he learns that Uncle is willing to lie to him that I'm more human than I am hero we know that the truth is way more complex and do not hidewe both know too many black boyswho disappeared names lost no too many Trayvon Martin's Oscar Grant and Abner louima no too many Sean Bells Amadou Diallo know too well that we have the hard-boiled Sons Emmett Till still we both know it's not about whether the shooter was racist is about how poor black boys are treated as problems well before they're treated as people black boys in this country cannot afford to play cops and robbers with always treated like we're the ladderdon't have the luxuries of playing war that were already in one where I'm from seeing cop cars drive down the street feels a lot like low-flying planes in New York City where I'm from routine traffic stops or more like minefields any wrong move Can very well mean your life how do I look my nephew in his Apple face and tell him to be strong when we both know black boys who are murdered everyday simply for standing up for themselves I take them by the hand and I say be strong I tell them be smart be kind and polite know your laws be aware of how quickly your hand moves the pocket for wallet or ID be aware of how quickly an officer's hand moves to holster 4 gun be black be a boy have fun cuz this world will force you to become a man one more quickly than you'll ever have to need to he grabs onto my hand and he says but Uncle Uncle what happens if the cop is really mean it scares me to know that he like so many other black boys is getting ready for a war that I cant prepare him for


By Javon Johnson