Turn Off the Box

Texture broken glass with cracks. Abstract of cracked screen Smartphone from shock.

You’re better than that box.
You’re wiser, kinder and saner than that box.
And you are most certainly sharper and better than
that nasty box has ever told you.
The one continually pushing our buttons over old hurts and unresolved pain
To turn us against one another. Again.

The one dressing and representing our daughters as cheap hookers.
While tricking them into believing that promiscuity is “empowering”.
And continually washing into them that they’re of such little worth that any number and variety of strangers are entitled to ogle free shots and views of whatever was once considered priceless…
A priceless “something” that many of our great-great-great grandmothers wept themselves to sleep over.
In the darkness of their cabins.
After nights of being cruelly reminded of what “animals” and whose property they were;
without any way to defend against being freely used, abused and ogled at.
As if not being allowed to read and being severely punished for
bettering themselves weren’t hope extinguishing burdens enough.

The ones who ended up enslaved on an Earth which had birthed them as free and divine humans.
Only to end up barely and poorly educated, poverty stricken, seen as and treated
no better than cheap cuts of meat.
One can only imagine the few young women who dared to plead
for the cause of their modesty and shame..
only to be met with scoffing at the notion of both.
Because value was only assigned to “respectable and precious” people whose feelings had to be considered-not “breed sows” who were a dime a dozen and barely considered as human beings capable of civilized emotions or too dull to understand what was happening to them.

Amongst the few comforts that our foremothers could find, in the
most intolerable of times, there was probably a persistent prayer/dream for many of them.
About us, their great-great-great-grand daughters.

How they must have tried looking into the future to see us walk free, with heads held high.
To see their daughters finally and soundly educated, confident and never forced to endure the humiliation of strange eyes and hands probing the intimate and private places -which would be considered no one else’s privilege to enjoy except for the Men who treated them with the best of care and unconditional respect.
I’m sure many tears stopped flowing when they invested in the hope of what “could or would” be possible for us in the future.
As thousands of years of mothering history would attest to, sometimes the faith of knowing “all will be better” for your children is enough to dull the pain of sacrifices that have to be made or compensate for deeply felt losses.

I thank the heavens that the laws of time didn’t allow them that particular gift of foresight.
It would have broken their hearts all over again to see what’s happened over the course of two hundred years.

You’re better than that box.
You’re wiser, kinder and saner than that box.
And you most certainly have more dignity and pride than
that nasty box has ever allowed you to know you’re entitled to.
The one we need to stop allowing to push our buttons over old hurts and unresolved pain.
Because the very same forces that brought us those pains
Are the same ones which are turning us against one another now. Again.
And using that box as the main tool to confuse and terrorize us with. Still.

photo By Freedom Life

(NOTE; I’m referring to white and black and brown women combined.

It weakens their race baiting manipulations when the truth of the millions of white slaves [not simply indentured servants] is studied. Just like it weakens their “female first” assaults when the truth of poor white men also getting the right to vote at the same time as women is told.

Just as the study of the sufferings of both the poor white soldier and the black slave combined-used and diminished equally by those that reaped great profit from the piles of our dead bodies-would cast a brilliant light on and significant blow to decades of race baiting violence and damage we’ve been bamboozled into inflicting on one another.)




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