Below the Surface

Young.
Black.
Male.

For many in this country, just those three words are enough to scare the living crap out of them. Add some uncombed hair, a pair of sagging jeans and a sleeveless undershirt and you have just about 65% of the boys that walk through my classroom door everyday. I wrote this poem for them, and for the nay-sayers who assume they will never amount to a hill of red beans....all because they don't take the time to look below the surface.

Lesleigh

For Those Who Never Considered What Lies Beneath the Surface, 2007

He didn't run a washrag between the crack of his behind.
Didn't bother to deodorize his armpits or wipe the crust from his eyes.
Hair unbraided, 'Fro pick stuck in the side of his head,
Doo-rag dragging from the back pocket of the same pants
he pulled off and dropped by the side of the bed the night before;
And at first glance he may appear to be one to ignore,
But consider looking a little longer. You may see much more.

He wears attire coined the "ghetto uniform"
the wife-beater and Dickies with no belt, both 3 sizes too big for him
and he walks down the sidewalk, pants just a-sagging.
It's way too early in the day for school to be out and
he's much too young to be holding down a 9 to 5 so
we assume he's a player in the game called the old 'shuck and jive'
and we shake our heads from side to side mumbling, "What a shame"
"Where is his pride?" But consider, just for a moment,
looking a little deeper inside.

You will notice his eyes, red
not from lack of sleep,
but glazed over from the blunt he blazed a half hour ago.
Eleven-fifteen, he comes out of the liquor store with a bag of Better Maids,
a honeybun, and a red Faygo...and that's just breakfast 'yo.
He spends the afternoon flipping channels, shooting 3 pointers on his xBox,
Emptying a swisher and rolling it up again,
ready to set his herbal refreshment aflame,
watching Rap City and sleeping through the local newscast.
Listen, I know it's easy to judge and generalize fast, but consider this
and keep an open heart as we journey below his surface.

Consider...how at work, Moms is pulling double shifts, and the fact that it was HER weed stash he was rolling that blunt with.

Consider...how son was "Student of the Month" in grades 2 and 3
and that in grade 4 his daddy pleaded the 5th and is now spending
6 minimum behind a metal door.

Consider...him going to 7 different schools 'till his 8th grade year and,
why bother sitting up in a class where
he can't read on that level so he knows as soon as he's
called on to finish the rest of the chapter,
the kids are gonna burst into laughter so
why should he have to go?
Now this young king is wondering why he's labeled LD
when he can add and multiply,
subtract and divide,
can compare and classify and can tell you why x equals 3,
but those words on that there page he
just....can't...read.

Did you consider another way for him to wash his butt off,
since the water in his crib's been shut off for a month?
Did you consider how it feels when his own people avoid
eye contact with him out of fear?
Did you consider how a "Keep your head up, Son?"
or a "How you doing Son?" is what he needs to hear?

Now, these ain't excuses, but we just can't
write the young brother off as useless,
which is what we tend to do when we don't speak up,
don't offer suggestions,
don't challenge
don't witness and
don't lead by example.

So let's lay down our gavels and
pick up some compassion
Let's give the young brother some time and
pay him a little attention,
Let's share a little wisdom and
show him how he's already equipped to make his life better.
Let him know it won't be easy, and that giving up isn't an option
even though he'll always be judged by those
who never consider what lies beneath his surface,
Not knowing that if they only look below
they just might find something....

Beautiful.