American Dream
“American Dream” is one of the hardest poems for me to read and perform. Anger works through my body as I remember Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, Tamir Rice, Sandra Bland, and many others who lost their lives to police brutality.
It was written in mourning of Alton Sterling, a 37-year-old black man, who passed July 5, 2016. He was shot dead at close range by two police officers in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I was baffled by the city’s attempt to justify his death.
This poem is an exploration of how the news desensitizes viewers to violence toward Black bodies. The news put these stories in the shuffle of everyday occurrences, insensitive to the people who are in mourning. It's robotic.
I watched and questioned who was the narrator of this story? How is this a fair narration if the subject is deceased? Why does America not believe us when we say we are in pain? Is this part of the American Dream?
DO I WANT THIS?
How can this be ok for Black Americans to be treated this way? Did we not help build this dream? Or nightmare.
Section V, this poem’s home, opens with a quote from a good friend; “I worked hard to love me and become the woman I am today” to show how self-love isn't easy in a world that tells you you are not worth loving. When you love yourself, you love others differently and demand love differently; and I am demanding America to love us differently.
