I'm sorry that I came through your door and brought down your walls. I'm sorry that I shook you awake to a worse sight of your new world... Yes sister. You fled the white man. But you came to find him here at home. Yes sister, the schools are free but our classrooms are under trees. The bearded white man sits on high and receives supplication and praise from our people. Home is not consciousness. Home is not natural food from the ground. Home is not African traditional religion. It's not black power. It's not Wakanda... Home is disillusionment and mental slavery. It's corrupt leaders, homophobia and misogyny. I know you thought here, the soil is fertile for the budding roots of your children to ground themselves. All the things you heard on tv. The dreamy speeches and sense of purpose. We don't know our history sister. We're the offsprings of transplanted seeds watered by the word of God and harvested by the Queen for Uncle Sam's table. We turn against ourselves to please them... We turn against ourselves to displease them. After this, I'm sure you'd want to grab your children and run. But no where cool sister. Africa is the house, but the home is in you. The hope is in your children, our children. The power lies with the leaders but the future is in our babies. Your future is in your babies. It saddens me to tell you. But they're no better off here than they were there. It's only what you raise them to know that can save them. I know this isn't what you'd want to hear... This is isn't what I'd like to say... But now that it's been said, I pray you forgive me.
