Being In My Given Box: The Conflict of Art and Activism (#ThirtyThirty)

  Sometimes, I want to be on the frontline.  I watch my friends, advocates of a rainbow of beliefs, as they take full action into their chosen battles. From sexism to institutional racism, sometimes it feels like I'm surrounded by super heroes.  I get to be a part of really cool workshops or hear about things like "Social Justice Camp" all year and, as excited as it makes me, when it's time to self-reflect it makes me feel like triangle player in a full symphony.

  Every now-and-then, I doubt my impact and begin to feel like at isn't enough. For the last three years, I completely abandoned my take at your local open mic, home studio, and/or blog to try my hand at social justice. I had done my share of mentoring programs, but it seemed like nothing compared to what I was surrounded by. Long story short, I've created a collective of thoughts and notes to release some of the emotions that came from these experiences. This being one of them... I feel like I'm gonna have to wrap up the thirty thirty thing soon. We'll see what that turns into.

Enjoy!


Your sons will learn to suffocate their first day at school/

They will come home bleeding insecurities and impurities/

Their backs may be thrown out, knotted up, and hanging onto loose leaf assignments until the sun rises 

They will breathe again/

When the sun rises/

There be laughter and ruckus again/

When the son rises/

But when son rises

The township will be back for him/

In the mourning/

Fret not/

They may be home sooner than expected/

Today's curriculum is about standards/

For them twice as many/

White boys don't have learning disabilities/

They're just not paying attention/

Your boys don't pay attention/ because you're broke, they starvin',

and they can't make it halfway pass a C, before they're being tip toed across the board/

This time, next year

Your boys, their policies

His word, her title

Times up, don't pass

Hands up, don't talk

Hands up, expel

Hands up, don't flinch

Or I will send you black ass home early/

Your boys/

Will come together with other "your boys"/

At the double knotted conclusion

That they are being trained

By the enemy/

In fascist fashion, which lacks compassion/

These boys/

Will distort their face lines

And contort their waistlines/

Blowing hand signals and makeshift bugles/

In the name of /

regional patriotism 

During lunchtime/

In the name of/

Misguided guidance

Via white compliance/

In the name of/

Bus lines 38 & 39/

That will sneak them pass master Morgan's tower/

Back to their rightful IPS districts

In the name of the drop-out rate/

Imagine the look on Mapleton-Fall Creek's face/

When Gambold bought out what we thought we could call our space/

The memories/

Collected in the corners of the bathrooms/

Fights had, but not resolved/

Assignments started, but not finished/

Rumors carried, never to be cleared out at milestone reunions/

What do I look like/

Renting out Arsenal Tech's gymnasium/

To reminisce on Short Ridge's cafeteria?/

How can any BOOST conference be productive/

When privatization is being disruptive?/

I don't think they want to graduate this year/

They might not walk/

There are so many corporate agendas/

And Board of Education overseers/ who look so far off into the distance,

They're oversight soars right over the people we have schools for, in the first place/

Things like investments towards better test results/

When preparation for the test insults their opportunities to expand in adulthood/

Let's all be militants, nurses, and social workers/

Honestly/

I don't think I want to graduate/

I might not even walk/

Would it be so bad, if I just can home early?/