The Beginning of Tomorrow, Today
by Eliza Vargas 9/17
Yesterday two different stories mended so perfectly to make me,
and yet I don’t even know them.

Tomorrow you are one half of my story,
but I am also one half of yours.
Be powerful, be ambitious, be great, but most importantly be YOU.

Today I am not my body parts. I am not my race.
I am not my intelligence.
I am the beginning of a sentence that has yet to end.

I am my past.
I am my tomorrow.
I am my present.

​

​What You Don’t Know
By Leizhor Boateng

That Nike sign makes you cool?
$160 is what you paid
But in all reality you don’t know
Where your fresh kicks were made
 
You wait outside Eblens for them
You get your spot and swear no one is taking them
But don’t realize a kid
Was the main person that was making ’em
 
You wanted two pairs
The freshest in the 10th grade
But the kid who made those kicks that make you fly
Doesn’t even get paid
 
Night in, night out they work
They sweat and bleed over your shoes
You just go out and waste money on them
Why? Because you think it’s cool
 
What if that was your cousin, sister, brother
Going through that child labor and slaving?
Are you going to keep investing in Nike?
Are you going to keep paying?
 
So think before you spend
Invest in what is right
They don’t care about the kids
For fairness we must fight
​

I See You
By Taya McClease
 
Black Kings and Queens, keep your head up. I know it doesn’t seem like it sometimes - okay, a lot of the time - but there are people that see you.

​They see you. I see you. You with your sun-kissed skin. You with your backbone, hardened by having to live in this world with more melanin than "they" were ready for. You with your refusal to back down. You with your beautiful kinks and coils that make people mistake you for a zoo animal because they want to touch it. You with a voice like honey. You with your hopes and dreams and accomplishments that far surpass what has been expected of you.
​
I am a black woman, and I see you.
​

What you want to see…
By K'Lynn Torres

Broken hearted woman…
Cries the quietest but scream the loudest.
Yet no one can hear her pain.
All they can see is a big smile and laughs that sounds like joy.
Mistaking her happiness…
When all she feels is pain and sees depression.

The Many Things
By Taya McClease 3/17)
​
Donald Trump is many things.
He’s the kid in school that I avoided in the hallways.
The one I made sure to never meet eyes with.
He’s the kid who cheated off me in 5th grade.
He’s the same kid that I did a group project with in seventh grade, where I was stuck doing all the work.
He’s the teacher that didn’t listen to my friend and didn’t care to meet with them for extra help after class.
He’s the employer that belittled women when talking with the guys, but claims he is not sexist.
He’s the guy who says he has no problem with ‘colored people’, but just by the way he says it you can tell he does.
He’s the guy that you wonder if he really means what he says because what they is speaking is so awful.
He’s the adult that got mad when I asked about something I didn’t understand.
The same guy who was ready to challenge everything I said because they had a problem with being incorrect.
He’s the man who sexually assaulted a girl and somehow got no jail time.
He’s the guy I’m afraid of because his way of thinking is how wars begin.
He’s the man I would never want a daughter of mine to marry.
He’s the man I would try to teach my son to never be.
He’s the guy that is showing that the U.S. is not free and can in fact be bought.
He’s everything I would never want myself nor my country to be.
He is nothing but a bully.

Shades of Beauty
By Rasheedah Shahid
 
This is a live broadcast from the one with darker skin
and you see she’s finally
got…that…confidence.
Flaunting it, like the newest trend.         
I’m chilled as the African night before the Europeans came.
Chilled as embracing my darkness with a smile, no shame.
 
I’m sorry, but this is for the ones of color.
I’m talking about my sistas and brothas
of all shades, but so departed from one anotha.
 
You don’t have to appear as paper white,
White as Snow-White white
White as a snowflake-falling-from-the-New-England-sky white
To be beautiful.
 
Caramel smooth, like-reaching-the-center-of-a-twix beautiful.
Brown, mocha-with-two-sugars-please beautiful.
Dark like-the-outside-of-a-peppermint-patty beautiful.
 
The Light skin vs. Brown skin vs. Dark skin
Don’t act like y’all don’t know.
You are worth what you portray yourself as.
So, take that in and embrace your skin.
Embrace ALL shades of Black.
 
Black as old African nights before the Europeans came.
Black as embracing your blackness with no shame.
 
We ain't been shown no love by Miss America
Neglected, rejected
Well, our time has come.                      
This time we getting the colder water
This time we getting full meals, no scraps
This time we getting the front of the bus
We callin’ “shotgun!”
Don't run.
 
It’s time for us to come together--harmonize
Call out Willie Lynch as a lie,
We getting the first slice of apple pie
And it’s gon be as big as we want.
 
Call all our sisters Queens and all our brothers Kings,
No matter what hood or what flag you reppin,
Move the wool from yo eyes and view this lesson.
All I see is shades of beauty
Let’s show them who we be
We be Black.
We be Beautiful.
 
So why we be fighting instead of uniting?
Instead of pointing the differences out about
sets and neighborhoods,
point out that we all black,
and just trying to go farther than the hood.
Instead of fighting over
who’s sleeping with who,
turn your focus on our people’s rights.
Introduce positive ways to fight.
 
Tell Masta you no longer a slave, na
We’s free, na.
Tell Masta your people of color, all shades, is beautiful as can be, na.
Tell Masta he no longer has a hold of you
We just cut that mental chain off our brains
and we’s free, na!
 
Put your fist up, those rumors were a lie…
We be Black
We be Beautiful
We be United

Walk The Talk
By Taina Hilario (11/16)

Once you are in America, you must speak English.
There will be no other languages.
Just English.
​“¡Hola! ¿Como estas?”
No! Don’t speak Taco!
If you want to speak Spanish, go back to Mexico.

Once you are in America, you get deported.
If you are black, go back to Africa!
You’re not African? You’re from France?
And you are trying to find your papers to stay?
“Oui! Oui! You can stay!”
Just kidding.
Let’s get you on a plane back to Africa.

Once you are in America, you’ll learn how to respect cops the hard way.
Having Black or "Latino" skin is a crime.
You’ll beg for mercy.
Your hands are high to the sky.
You know your child is asking when are you coming home.
Bang! Cop says 217, 245, 505, 417, 390.
Fox News says it is your fault.
Society says #blacklivesmatter.
You say nothing as you lay in a pool of your own blood.

Once you are in America, Christianity is your new religion.
God rules this country.
You’re Muslim? And Islam and Christianity are fairly similar?
No! Your Allah is not my God!
Forget your First Amendment right!
Forget separation of church and state.
God Bless America!

Once you are in America, being a rich, white man is the best thing you can be.
Being a poor person in court, you will lose the case.
A woman will be paid less than a man, even though she worked harder for the money.
Someone who doesn’t have the famous, pale skin has a higher chance of being shot by those whose job is to protect them.

But what can I, a 14-year-old Latina girl from the little state of Connecticut, do?
I’m just complaining about how bad America is, just like you.

We need to teach people about language and culture.
We need to upgrade the deportation system.
We need to educate cops not to shoot to kill.
We need our First Amendment right to be enforced.
We need everyone to be treated fairly.

We need to stop talking the talk.
It’s time for us to walk the talk.