This Melanin is… By Steve Fitzhugh Like, black gold…precious, No currency can capture the true worth of its value Like, the hidden treasure at the end of a rainbow, indescribable…it is Like, everything good in a childhood dream Provoking smiles of what could one day come true This melanin is…. Like, a secret ingredient seasoning earth’s first man To ever become the flavor of life Nothing like it…it is, like nothing else A skin-bound pigmentation, like built-in amour, Impenetrable protection from the ultraviolet assault of the sun No laboratory can produce it, no scientist design it, Only the Giver of Gifts-the Great Creator, Can apportion it, and that he did, To the ancestors bronze and beautiful This Melanin is…timeless, endless, ageless survived This melanin in you, by fate by providence, alive Stronger than captivity, a proclivity to arise, The whip could not tame it, disgrace could not shame it Hate could not silence it, quiet it, or cripple it Though man abused it and freedom eluded it Even dripped, it did, from the leaves of the strange-fruit trees But this melanin…this melanin is… still…here! Like a, preamble to a return to glory it is Like a, victory relentlessly stalking its winning season, Its triumph, its hour to shine This melanin is destined one day… No longer to flow like blood in the street But, I decree it shall be cherished, to repeat Its original intended prominence Civilization’s divine genesis of all that is Good, honorable, exceptional, noble and true For generations to come…this melanin is…. In me…driving me…moving me to win Defeat forever denied by this melanin within, This be true So tell us great descendant of old How goes it, today, how goes it today, with this melanin…that be in you?

A Strange fit By Steve Fitzhugh Suit and tie for my chance to shine On time and confident I’m sorry sir, the interviewer said For this job you just don’t fit I grinded hard, the best by far Degreed, indeed, legit Time and again I heard them say For this job you just don’t fit Again, denied again, I cried Determined not to quit Among the best on every test Strangely, never do I fit In route one day to get my son I earned a cop’s attention What’s going on sir, why these cuffs I fit, he said, the description Please, there must be some mistake What trait, sir, triggered suspicion? Black, male, all it seems it took To shame me by detention Was he tall? Short? Or medium build? Sir, I promise I’m not the one Mustache? Beard? Or was he bald? Sir, I need to get my son Humiliated like, less than a man Stomach tied with toxic tension Choking back my angry words Survival now, my only mission Drama-weary, traumatized Innocent victim, broken system For color of skin, I’m forced again to contend With how I strangely fit the description

Tribute To Greatness By Steve Fitzhugh It’s good to give praise to our God for the things that he has done He guaranteed our victory by giving us his son So glad his promise and his will did not perish in the grave But three days later like he said his son came forth to save Centuries have passed and I stand in awe of the mighty one revealed For in me, a sinner, born again the holy works his will Amazing how he demonstrates his love for all mankind Red or yellow, black or white his pardon all may find But today we note the ways in which he’s used the darker race To manifest his brilliance ingenuity love and grace Though forbidden to even read or write a few decades ago We wrote the first Almanac telling farmers when to sow Once auctioned off a s property upon the trading block We still became the inventors of the first American clock We saw into the future yes, we exercised our minds We invented the first stoplight a major improvement upon stop signs We worked hard we worked smart never stopped till we were through We even out-worked the horse until we invented the first horseshoe Charles Drew a brilliant man but its God that we must thank God had to say to Drew why you don’t invent the first blood bank Dr. Daniel Williams a true masterpiece was he Successful open-hear surgery way back in 1893 Granville Woods, pure genius and as diligent as a mouse You’ll find his patents at GE, AT&T and Westinghouse Garrett Morgan ladies your respect I’m sure he’s earned He developed the solution that perfected your last perm Augustus Jackson one day had a taste for something sweet He loved the little children so he made for them a treat Come this summer when you order your next double-dip supreme Thanks cousin Gus he was the first to make for us ice cream Thanks Eli Whitney, Booker T, Thanks Dr. Louis Wright Thank you Major Robert Lawrence the first Black Astronaut I flight Thank Charles Richey, Elijah McCoy and our friend G. Washington Carver There’s only on use of the peanut most thought I know 100 said Carver think harder Air conditioning, ironing board the clothes dryer they made The first Black PH.D? Nineteen, Edward Alexander Bouchet The list goes on and on, the accomplishments are great Man says it’s impossible, God says just watch and wait The words African American contain a hidden clue The last four letters of each word reveal precisely what we can do Trust in God obey his will and live with his plan The last four letters of these two words will shout, “ I can! I can! I can!”

Free Indeed By Steve Fitzhugh Free. No chains on my feet No whip on my back Cast iron braces no longer restrict The movement of my limbs For I am free aren’t I Free. My name is not “darkie” My name is not “boy” Potato sacks and hand-me-downs No longer comprise my wardrobe Master don’t confine me To the plantation no more I move as I please For I am free aren’t I Free to read, free to write Free to vote Fred to do and say Free to come and go Freedom is good and I am Free! But why does this freedom Hurt not heal Why does freedom Bind my upwards aspirations To status quo behavior Free? I say I am free But I must wear the right suit The right shoes The right cologne Purchased with the right salary And working for the right company Free? I say I am free but I must drive the car I must meet the right people I must live in the right Neighborhood I must say the right things I must own the right credit cars And of course I must have the right combination Of consonants and vowels follow my full name Mere academic decorations BA, JD, MBA, Ph.D. But I call myself free. Although I am free I must render immaculate credentials To get that entry level job Of which I am already overqualified Though I am free I also become invisible When promotion and opportunity Are distributed among my dark-suited White collared peers, boring clones Mere mundane masters of Assimilation and conformity Though I am free I must painstakingly watch the spoon feeding Of an inadequate social support system Into the mouths of my sisters and brothers Welfare, food stamps Unemployment checks, EBT cards All creating hopeless dependency Unbearable, seemingly unending Yet free I am I proclaim Society has dropped the visible bonds But chains I do not see Cripple my mind puncture my hope And transform my gazelle-like stride African in nature Into a pathetic comfortable crawl Simply because my eyes are open Yet my head and heart are blind So I now sheepishly claim that I am free Oh yes, I am free to cultivate my mind Study, read, grow, but since my youth I’ve grown addicted to television Noise now fills my world Two strong brothers, reflection and meditation Who once facilitated inner growth and wisdom Now find themselves denied by my car stereo Drowned by my headphones, and man-handled By my multifunction Home entertainment center CD, DVD, MP3, INT-ER-NET But I call myself F-R-E-E, Free! Character, Integrity, Morality Strain to set standards in my world Yet can barely be heard over the voice Of compromise, my new master… Sneaking into my thoughts through Newspaper or magazines Or invading my privacy through Streaming frequencies I say I am free, we are free But in the eyes of my people Another story is told Defeat is assumed, Mediocrity presumed Complacency resumed So I ask myself Are we free? Am I free? Freedom Constrained by Oppression, racism and hatred Is a living lie I claim to be free but I cannot see or feel the struggle I am living the lie What then is freedom? When I see the hurting And learn to heal I am free When see the down trodden And learn to lift up I am free When I see the brokenhearted An learn to cry I am free When I see the wayward And learn to give counsel I am free When I see the lonely An learn to be a friend I am free When I see the uneducated And learn to teach I am free When I see the homeless And learn compassion I am free When I see the selfishness And learn to give I am free When I see the buying And learn to save I am free When I see the shackles And learn liberation I am free When I see the bitterness And learn to forgive I am free When I see the oppression And learn to over come I am free When I see the racism And learn to express dignity I am free When I see the hatred And learn to love I am free For freedom is a revelation Not an autograph n a proclamation Freedom is knowing and doing Freedom is seeing But seeing is in vain If acting does not follow Thus when I know and do When I see and act Only then can I say I am truly Free Indeed.

dīˈkädəmē by Steve Fitzhugh Far back as I can remember I starred on a team It just sorta came to me like that Football, basketball, baseball, track Though it flowed don’t get it twisted I had to work hard too They say, the more daddy can help you to Practice what you play Chances go way up, that you go all the way But…not where I’m from, not many daddies around But I still got down, I got down and just a kid I first heard folks Screamin’ my name at the game At the game they were screamin’ my name Championship thunder roared in my high school Had to learn real quick though, to play by the rules Because of dangers, toils and snares You never know which teammate next disappears Some better than me…blue-chippers He got caught, he did not, he locked up, that one shot...dead And that one? That one, he’s a father of two... stone-cold beast On the field, mad skills the best of our crew, but he quit school Not me, I gotta make it do what it do, for you, momma Can you hear them screamin’ my name at the game At the game they was screamin’ my name I signed d-1, made All-American too When I came out, third pick, round two, the whole city knew This team…was-a-bout…to-win, people tellin’ friends To watch me, the rook, ESPN top 10 First things first, momma gets the hook-up, yeah boy, I thought you knew Brand new car, all her own, next a new home And me? Me? Well, every thing changed, all in one night… …Rear view mirror…flashin’ blue light... “Hello officer is there a problem?” With care and caution I began this “meeting” “Is this your vehicle?” He asked I was still lookin’ for the common courtesy of a greeting “Yessir it is”, I calmly replied…here we go… I spoke the truth, he assumed I lied ‘Cause in a voice, disrespectful, dishonorable and loud He asked again, as if he was my daddy, and like I was his child “Are you sure this vehicle’s yours?” Oh no he didn’t… oh yes he did ‘Spensive car like that and behind the wheel, Me...young...hoodie…Black Inside of me somethin’ was drivin’ me to defend my manhood, my honor To rebuke this man’s shameful dishonesty assumption But I had to self-check that unction When I felt dignity risin’ in my throat ‘bout to jump out demandin‘ respect Heart pumpin’ anger all up into my eyes…I realized, wait I thought to myself I’m…just one…mis-spoken word away from being a toe-tag-statistic And watchin’ another hood burn and turn ballistic? Naw…naw…cain’t let it happen, had to shut it down Though from my heart on my head I see a crown Tonight, humbled again, I just…bow…down, these natural emotions Back home it never happened before But in this NFL city, it was the first stop of 8 stops In two and a half years, how long can a young proud man Swallow his pride, fight back his tears, while on Sunday… On Sunday they’ll be screamin’ my name at the game… At the game they’ll still be screamin’ my name It’s my jersey that’s worn by the stadium thousands Endorsements, promotions, autographs, sponsors Game-day fanatics know well my name But, they don’t know the hurt, cain’t feel my pain Eyes but not seein’, ears that don’t hear Grown man and in my prime, but somehow Trayvon’s fear…? Trayvon Martin’s fear…was mine! And Philando Castile? Yeah, that’s was me too! Tamir Rice? Me! Michael Brown? Me, and again Sandra Bland…Eric Garner…me and me and me and U-su-al-ly, at the final count, the Black one dead, the blue one free How do I say to my country tis of thee My, sweet land of liberty, that this cannot be? Thought this was the home of the brave? Land of the free? Pain sustained is agony, like systematic misery And still on Sunday they’ll be screamin’ my name at the game At the game they’ll be screamin’ my name All my life… Before each competition I’ve always honored tradition, And do again, today, on this my brief Sunday-stage With reverence and respect to the emblem of our freedom I pronounce to my country from this bended knee …my dichotomy On one hand alive and free, on the other hand, me and mine are suffocating In the fatal fog of racial injustice…I…can’t…breathe, can…not…pro-ceed… With-this-game-un-aware, not blind, not deaf, not hateful or disrespectful Just woke, to the fear and the cries of the disenfranchised, The marginalized…the traumatized Gone! It’s another him. Gone! It’s another her. Gone! It’s another me that’s passed But not in vain because the long dark shadow of this pain Has now finally been cast…on you…on us, Hoping it’s recognized, praying it’s processed ‘Cause my privileged access…expires on average in about 3 1/2 years Brave as the bold of yesterday, who gave-it-all for the right of us today, honorably I must Act-now, I must speak-up, I must sit-in, I must stand-tall, I must kneel-down, I must march-on...whatever it takes, I must ‘Cause I have a Dream for a better day, and like M.L. King, it’s for my children’s well-being, For this is my time, but it’s for their future and those who look like me, And hurt like me, and grieve like me. Don’t you see? I saw me shot dead on TV, Unarmed and layin’ in the street, it was just last night Viewer discretion again strongly advised shield the kids eyes from these gruesome acts Different the story, same are the facts...and I wonder still… Momma…momma…can you hear’em’ screamin’ my name at the game Same sad song like nothing is wrong insane how they just keep on screamin’ my name