Talking to a good friend of mine the other day I was asked an important question about my blog. Namely, who is the audience for my insights and reflections? Is it designed to be political, cultural, academic, creative, spiritual, and so on. Of course I don’t want to distance myself from any reader because the language or ideas expressed aren't relevant to the vast majority of readers. Nor do I want to talk down to anyone by presenting my views in a condescending and patronising way. I spent a good few hours reflecting on the posed question and went back to my work as a poet, writer, and director. I realised that the key to my blog is finding my own voice, of which I have many. Therefore, my blog will reflect the diversity of my opinions, thoughts, and ideas, expressed through the different voices I have.
Today’s reflection centres on a poem I wrote a long time ago. It was conceived when I worked in a range of environments and met very different men, all representing very different thoughts, ideas, and realities. It was this poem that enabled me to understand that masculinity and being a man was not a one size fits all. It was the catalyst that has underpinned my work in prisons, community, academia and more importantly in understanding who I was, who I am, and who I want to be in the future.
For men reading this poem I hope it will push you ask yourself a question …… Who am I?. For women reading this poem, I am hoping it will give you an insight into the diversity and complexities of men and how they define their masculinity. The poem is not rooted in any academic study. It is merely a reflection based on many observations over the years. There is no agenda or point I’m trying to make, other than enabling you to draw your own conclusions. Enjoy ..................
Who am I?
I wear a designer suit ….carry a designer mobile, complete with a designer attitude and a designer way of life …I work off commission …. try to convince people I am a connoisseur of wine and sushi … I occasionally buy antiques to impress my friends and have shares in British Telecom as well as … dabbling on the stock market ..… I love my car more than my woman … who happens not only to be White … but Middle Class too … although I get vex when my sister dates a White man … I occasionally hit the woman I’m with, but my plastic smile and smooth way of talking usually fools them into thinking I’m cool … I have a degree as a passport out of the ghetto .. and my other Passport is used when I go skiing .. as it’s more fashionable than going to the Caribbean … In front of my White colleagues I condemn drugs, as I don’t want to be associated with anything which stops me getting promotion .. I then come home and smoke a big spliff …
Who am I ?
I have two mobiles …. a nine in my pocket .. an Uzi at home … I sell crack but don’t use … I have several gold teeth .. gold chains … gold bracelets … gold anything …… I drive a rental car … and make out I own it … I have more furniture in that car .. than my where I live … I have a licence to kill .. maim … hurt … without remorse …. and dress anyway I want to blend in with those I’m going to shoot … I tend to do whatever I want to because the community is generally scared of my reputation …. I need more than one gyal … and I certainly ain’t interested in contraception … I love taking risks and gambles .. sleep with one eye open .. and trust no-one … drown my misery with beats … I hate thinking if my woman’s being screwed by my mate … and can’t deal with not seein my kids .. I also can’t deal with having to see them .. but that’s dependent on which baby mother it is … I don’t like bein looked at .. talked about … laughed at … but I don’t mind givin weaker youts a beaten … society is scared of me, but loves to use my image on cop programmes …. I get depressed … can’t handle it sometimes .. and get looked down upon by my own community ….
Who am I?
I haven’t screwed without a condom … I haven’t screwed nuff gyal .. yet I’ve got HIV … I am not gay … and don’t have long to live .. … my friends and family have deserted me … the church won’t acknowledge who I am .. I am close to suicide and feel I am an innocent bystander who is the victim of a medical mistake
Who am I ?
I am well read .. know the right words … see myself as conscious … like to sound political …. I tell everyone who ain’t like me … to read more .. know more … get in touch with reality … I can quote Malcolm .. Franz Fanon …. the Koran …espouse radical politics .. behave like I’m a revolutionary .. knowing we ain’t living in Northern Ireland … so I don’t have to worry about being killed for my views…. I know my history … my politics … my relationship with society … but deep down I don’t believe the hype about Black Unity …where women are concerned .. I believe in their liberation providing I sanction it ….
Who am I ?
I sit on the fence .. have a White woman .. laugh at racist jokes …. feel a threat from other Black people .. I don’t really like Caribbean food .. well not in front of my White friends ..deep down I wish I wish I was White … well during the week … although I do like being Black at weekends … if you get my meaning …. I like having my hair straight .. and would kill for light skin .. and as for my nose .. come on … who wants something as broad as that … big lips .. I hate them… White people accept me for who I am coz like me .. they don’t see colour … coz we’re all the same … I’ve never experienced racism … not in front of my face that is … any my woman’s family .. it’s just name’s that’s all .. providing I drink my beer .. read the Sun .. and like football .. they like me
Who am I?
I feel my celebrity status makes me bigger than what I am … I am always seen in the right clubs.. grinning through my White teeth … I am desperate to go on TV and will play any part .. providing it pays well .. I don’t like playing roles made for White people but I will if it means I can be on TV. I never talk politics … express an opinion about anything related to the expression of radical ideas for fear of not getting that part … I am not insecure .. but I’m scared of failure … I know I am not liked by the establishment .. but I have to kiss ass .. otherwise I won’t eat or be able to put petrol in my seven series lifestyle … I used to be a wannabe who’s become a might be .. who is set to become a has been .. who might become a where are they now …
Who am I ?
I use lirical warfare as my means of liberation .. I have the uniform … the ammunition comes out my mouth … I hope to be independent …. But if I have to work for that White owned record company I will … because I don’t have the energy to set up my own thing … I struggle .. but only with my phrasing and beats …. I chat my politics coz I ain’t accountable for the belief system which comes out of my mouth .. I use African/American speech coz it sounds better although I think I’m an original … money ain’t gonna change me … even if I do move out the ghetto .. get a bigger car and a 6 album deal ….
Who am I ?
I am hard working … invisible in societies eyes … I don’t make headlines .. I look after my kids .. I go to work .. have a steady relationship .. I have no uniform … make no big gestures or statements
Who am I ?
I sit in a cell reflectin …. delvin … lookin back but never forward … I live with regrets .. try to forget .. smoke weed ..… I like my hip hop .. reggae … R and B … occasional spliff … a likkle drink … I’m opposed to Black on Black violence .. and don’t like crack dealers …. I haven’t broken the law .. or even have a car with central locking … my chest can’t stop a bullet … and I get tired if I stay out too late …. But I am invisible in the eyes of the media ..
Who am I ?
I am …. father …. less
….. community …… less
… emotion … less …
….mind ….. less
….. value … less …
… care … less ….
……. thought … less
….. conscious …. less
….. couldn’t care … less
…. Identity … less …
Who am I ?
No comments:
Post a Comment