I wonder at people who have condemned me for the actions of few, I smile at their naivety, I laugh when they think they are better, then I walk away when I find how hollow their thoughts are. They judge me yet they don’t know me, they condemn me, but they need me, they spite me yet forget what they made me become.

That, this bad thoughts you have attributed my name might be true, that maybe you have been right all along, that maybe, no good could ever come out from this black melanin skin of mine, this true mark of Africanism, this rare men of strength, this true black blood that flows through my veins, this aboard riddled with funny tales of poverty, this land of black men.

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