They will never fully understand what it means to be a black man. There were many times I would struggle myself, often wishing I were someone else.
My insecurities and my secret longings would often get the best of me. No strong voices of encouragement and no cheerleaders on the sidelines for poor little Nee’ Nee.
Speaking out, being affirmed or even heard, not in my genealogy. A broken family and shattered dreams all left me wandering endlessly.
Unaware that there was a God, I did the best that I could. Again and again, I'd bandage my heart and continued to search for the good.
Sexual harassment, harsh subtle words, and lots of physical abuse. Why cry out or tell, scream, shout or yell...what would be the use?
A naïve little girl on the inside, yet forced to mature day after day. Both resentful and envious on how the whites appeared to always get their way.
Them: carefree lives, endless privileges and bright wide smiles. Me: black, single mother of two and weighed down by trial after trial.
I’ll be a cop and make lots of money and solve my many woes. Having not a clue, the men dressed in blue would be my biggest foes.
Trying as hard as I can to keep quiet and fit in. Never standing a chance because of the color of my skin.
Do what you’re told and you won’t lose your job but an occasional discipline. Inside I’m crying and patiently waiting for the courage to say, “If not now, when?”
Then God came along and spoke to my spirit about the One the disciples called friend. He unveiled my eyes to the hearts of man and said, "Beloved it’s not your skin."
Before Jesus could call you His companion, He said, “Let’s address this sin!” What a relief to know, no matter how hard I tried, there was no way I’d ever win.
Exposing my heart and all of my transgressions, I finally saw myself. Then I grieved for them, it was very clear to me, many chose to exalt themselves.
