Salt Was the Price

 

Salt was the price

for his captured life,

this Congolese man 

in slave trader hands

 

Ota Benga

 

In nineteen oh four

brought to these shores,

so others could stare

at the St. Louis World’s Fair

 

Ota Benga

 

Just another addition 

to their living exhibition

 

Ota Benga

 

“Savages” on display,

never mind their dismay

Step up for your view

of our human zoo

and see those like

 

Ota Benga

 

In just two years’ time

in the Bronx Zoo we find

 

Ota Benga

 

For your entertainment today,

A human being on display,

Come turn your gaze

to a man in a cage,

 

Ota Benga

 

To gloat superiority, self-proclaimed,

over someone so “untamed,”

twice as many would now go

to see their “freak” in the show,

 

Ota Benga

 

At the primate house,

bones scattered about

to create the illusion

of a cannibalistic conclusion

to the eating habits of

 

Ota Benga

 

Evolution’s missing link,

they claimed with a wink,

 

Ota Benga

 

The crowd poked and they jeered,

their manner cavalier

as they laughed at the sight of

 

Ota Benga

 

As protests were groaned,
“It is absurd to make moan

over the imagined humiliation

and (the supposed) degradation,” 

The New York Times did wail,

“very low in the human scale” 

they ranked

 

Ota Benga

 

When the Zoo’s history we impart

this will be our “most amusing” part,

the Zoo director said of the caged

 

Ota Benga

 

When finally free,

homeward bound he would be,

 

Ota Benga

 

But his return hopes would unravel

with the cessation of passenger ship travel

World War I had begun,

so he came upon a gun

 

Ota Benga

 

A life forced, undesired,

No crowd would see when he fired

the bullet into his heart,

 

Ota Benga

 

A segregated, unmarked grave

No one bothered to say

that here lies

 

Ota Benga

 

In a country that still 

whitewashes its ills,

our hands are stained 

with the blood of

 

Ota Benga

2 Oct 2020

Watch the video, featuring Justin Tibbs on sax

Watch the video without music

Thanks to Rob Huber for suggesting I explore human zoos as a possibility for a poem. The resources I used:

Ota Benga - Wikipedia

The Man Who Was Caged in a Zoo - The Guardian

Human Zoos: America's Forgotten History of Scientific Racism

Spectacle - One on One interview with Pamela Newark

The Tragic Life of Ota Benga - YouTube

CBC - Human Zoos: A Shocking History of Shame and Exploitation

Land of the Free, Home to the Slave

The following piece is what I am calling a “gathered poem.” All words are direct quotes by slave owner and anti-abolitionist, Francis Scott Key. I’m putting these words together to contrast the blind patriotism often eagerly bestowed to the national anthem with the blatant racism of its writer to highlight the need to relegate this song to the scrap barrel of history.

 

The words in red are from his 1814 poem, “Defence of Fort M’Henry,” which was put to music to become “The Star-Spangled Banner.” It would not become the national anthem until 1916 by congressional resolution, signed by the 31^stpresident. The words in blue are from the often ignored third stanza of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” The words in white are from Key’s final address to the jury, as he prosecuted a man for possession of anti-slavery publications. 

 

O! say can you see 

Are you willing, gentlemen, 

by the dawn’s early light,

to abandon your country,

What so proudly we hailed 

to permit it to be taken from you, 

at the twilight’s last gleaming

and occupied by the abolitionist, 

Whose broad stripes and bright stars

according to whose taste it is 

through the perilous fight,

to associate and amalgamate with the negro? 

O’er the ramparts we watch’d

Or, gentlemen, on the other hand, 

were so gallantly streaming?

are there laws in this community 

And the Rockets’ red glare

to defend you from the immediate abolitionist, 

The Bombs bursting in air,

who would open upon you the floodgates 

Gave proof through the night

of such extensive wickedness and mischief?

that our Flag was still there;

 

O! say does that star-spangled Banner yet wave,

No refuge could save the hireling and slave,

O’re the Land of the free, and the home of the brave?

from the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave

18 Sep 2020

Key's address to the jury can be found in this article:

Francis Scott Key, Wikipedia

This article from The Intercept does a nice job of, among other things, looking into Key's intended meaning in his usage of "hireling and slave":

More Proof the U.S. National Anthem Has Always Been Tainted with Racism

Consensual Candy

The taste of candy,

sweet to the lips

 

Sugary satisfaction,

confectionery ecstasy

 

Candy Land should be

Candy Heaven for 

all who choose to indulge

 

But a straight man

in a candy store

is, too often, a bull 

in a china shop

 

Oblivious to his surroundings,

careless in his destruction

 

Double dipping

double standards,

Grabbing handfuls

of hypocrisy

 

Mocking her sweet tooth

with names meant to degrade

for the same sugary desire

he prides himself on

 

Candy slut if she consents,

candy prude if she denies

 

Set up for ridicule

regardless of her choice

 

as he attempts 

to shame her

for wanting what

he himself desires

 

Not the most intelligent

of candy connoisseurs,

this bull of a man,

 

as candy is consensual

and if she declines dessert,

he’ll have only the 

distant memory of the taste

 

and his own sticky hands

 

15 September 2020

watch the video performance with Dionne D. Hunter

Tone-Deaf Karen’s Tone-Deaf Meme

Martin looted nothing,

Martin burned nothing,

Martin attacked no one,

 

reads tone-deaf Karen’s 

tone-deaf meme

 

Why can’t you just do that?  

she offers

 

Not to the police,

nor the military,

both armed to the teeth,

fingers itching on the trigger

 

No, her demand 

for non-violence

is directed solely

at those whose cries

for equality are 

still left unanswered

 

Ignoring the vast 

majority of protestors 

who are peaceful

 

Equating a broken store 

window with violence,

like shattered glass 

somehow matches

firing seven bullets 

into someone’s back

 

Why can’t you respond

like Martin did?

she wonders,

 

That’s an awful lot to ask, 

considering King’s protests

were only non-violent

on one side

 

Your meme speaks volumes,

Karen, and this is what I hear:

 

Why can’t you just write 

letters from the prison cell 

they lock you inside

for peacefully protesting?

 

While the government 

tracks and taps you,

considering you 

a national threat

 

Why can’t you march 

peacefully across the bridge,

knowing you’ll return

beaten and bloody,

at the hands of the law,

if you return at all?

 

Why don’t you offer

your brain to the baton,

your tender thigh 

to the sharp daggers

of the dog’s mouth?

 

Hoping that a camera is rolling,

hoping that *this* time

some white American

will be watching

 

and *this* time,

they will finally give a shit

 

that they will finally decide

after fifty-five years -

hell, after four-hundred years -

that your life…

mattered

 

While we debate

and evade the simple

recognition of your value,

why can’t you stand there 

peacefully waiting?

 

While bullets, 

rubber and real,

fly in your direction

from a peaceless officer

or from some kid 

crossing state lines 

to use your body 

as target practice?

 

Let me sit back

in my comfortable privilege

asking you,

 

Why can’t you just be killed

peacefully, like Martin,

letting your brilliance 

drip onto the street,

hoping your blood

will be what finally 

makes us realize

that you mattered

30 Aug 2020

Watch the performance with High Priest