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Be-Side
The Home of Hakm's B-Side e-alter ego...his auxiliary brain or external hard drive...
Work - by hakim bellamy
(Edited via performance at TEDxABQWomen in Albuquerque, NM on December 1st. The full text is below. This poem will be published in my forthcoming book “Swear” by West End Press in March 2013)
WORK
I
There are few things more difficult
than getting lipstick
out of a blue collar
for a few things
we work
work like
lipstick on a blue collar
like three jobs
and the sex
we still can’t afford
to have
like a sex worker
fancy feet fantasies
of strawberry toes
dipped in fondue faces
while we rest
in the heel of society
I will never
let him have my feet
of running
kicking
and standing
instead of lying down
II
That pill
drug skid marks
down my esophagus
after kicking
and screaming
‘cross my tongue
awoke
took my longest finger
out of me
at 6 o’clock
erected it
to twelve
and shoved it past
his sleeping nose
there is nothing sexy
about eye sockets.
when the perpetrator
sleeps over
it’s date rape
whether the patron
paid
or not
III
my arms
are longer than his sentence
rivet strong and smooth
sometimes
for fastening
the maturation of
baby boys
to Maybe Men
other times
for the quickening
of the removal
of his sternum
from my bosom
maybe baby
maybe not
these arms
do not belong to him
they are open
to me
IV
My ankles
were pregnant
with desperate housework
when I collared him
lipstick I did not recognize
perfume I did
but did not blame her for being a victim
did not blame my hands
for refusing to wash
anymore of his fucking shirts
did not blame god
for leaving my daughter’s father
and his patriarchal paycheck
for putting my baby girl
on my back
putting food and shelter
on my shoulders
making my living
off my ass
my brain
cannot be judged by its cover,
my complexion, nor my circumstance
not where I clock in
or clock out
I have a degree
in sociology
and survival
and only one
is coming in handy
V
My daughter
is my body of labor
a woman now
born from my rib
pushed from my pelvis
apple of my Eve
I named her “Eden”
she has nested with serpents
seen me
serve leg, thigh and breast
to a tapeworm society
that cannibalizes its women
she’s seen
my serviceable body parts
removed
used to fill their holes
she’s seen my heart overlooked
cast plate-side
like a gizzard
she’s seen them
eat me
from the inside
out
VI
she barely remembers
my housewife days
of not lifting a finger
to her father
and him
putting himself
where ever he wanted
his fists
as hard as he wanted
and I chose
bait instead of bitch
I chose pussy
instead of prison
because I rather teach her
teach her
that there is dirt
underneath every French manicure
that working girls
get their ass kicked for a living
that’s a choice for some
less of a choice for others
but so is getting your ass kicked
for love
for life
teach her
the difference between sale and sacrifice
is the cost and the price
like the difference between
pay equity and fair wage
teach her the difference between
high risk career
and poor life choices
that either way we have rights
even when they put their palms
over our voices
I taught her that
I’d rather give the street
what her father repeatedly took
even pride
what she learned from me
is the value of her body
for better or for worse
she learned not to stay for bullshit
like “relationships take work”
work takes work
and work consists
of whatever a body
is obliged to do.
From Mohandis K. Gandhi to Michael Luther King, Jr
Michael, I’m sorry
It’s not fair
At least I got to meet my grandchildren
Before my people turned on me
I should have told you
That satyagraha will get you killed
That your hugs and hope
Will end in an embrace of gunpowder
That one million people
Can beat one million bullets
But all it will take is one bullet
To beat you, Michael
We have more in common
Than our four children
And our changed names
More than Nobel Peace Prize gossip
Cold jail cell floors
And an oppressed underclass
More than Henry David Thoreau
And cowards who are too afraid to die for anything
Calling us soft
I’m so sorry
I should have told you
That Civil Disobedience
Requires civility
Civility that is very hard to find
In a human race that
Swaddles its offspring in flag and pistol
One in the cradle
And launches them off to war
I should have told you
That all of our Walden’s
Would be warzones
That we won’t die of old age
Or Tuberculosis like Henry
That non-violent resistance
Ends differently for people with our color skin
There should have been another chapter
For us
We both got our start in public transportation
Not the Montgomery Bus Boycott that put you on American television
But the day YOU
Were made to give up your seat on a bus
Hours after you won a speaking contest at the Negro Elks Society
And you didn’t sit in the back
You stood in the aisle
The entire 90-mile trip home
Where all the white passengers around you
Including the one in your seat
Were made to stare at your pride and your pain
You were fourteen
I was twenty-four
When I was thrown off a train
For refusing to leave the first class cabin
In South Africa
Beaten by a stagecoach driver
For refusing to “make room”
For a European passenger
That same genetic defect in humans
That made them spit on and spear
Your precious Jesus, King
I called it
“A negation of civilization”
You called me John 10:16
Which reads.
I have other sheep, which are not of this fold
You called me “great soul”
You said,
“Christ showed us the way,
And Gandhi in India showed it could work.”
And I’m sorry
That they are not all like you
Sorry
That they will forget
That I am Hindu and Muslim Peace
When they are looking for someone to bomb
That they will forget
That you are a militant lover
The pacifist-aggressive pastor
Monday through Sunday Christian
When they are looking for someone to be
I preached satya and ahimsa
Harvested riverbeds of salt
From the faces of my brothers and sisters
While giving the middle finger to British law
You preached
Said if one thousand are locked up
There should be a thousand more waiting to fill their jail cells too
Said peace is not merely the absence of tension,
it is the presence of justice.
And I’m sorry
Sorry, I didn’t tell you the rest
Sorry I didn’t tell you how tired I was
How tired you looked
At the end
How the press would ridicule you
When your peaceful protest exploded into to violence
How it would frustrate you
In a way that fasting and praying could not cure
How you could give a damn about how it would hurt your image
Because what was really taxing
Was how it broke your heart
Martin,
It’s the same heaven for lawyers and martyrs
There is no caste there
To separate those who live good lives
From those who live good legends
You could have just been a good father,
Husband, Pastor
Instead of King
I could have practiced law
Not dying for the cause
I should have told you the dirty little secret
That death
Is the only way out of making a hypocrisy of ourselves
That I was on the brink
Ready to duck tape the mouths of my fellow countrymen
Bickering over India and Pakistan
As the British smirked on their way out
And you
You were running out of other cheeks to turn
Sometimes,
Murder is the only way we leave in peace, Martin
He Ram
And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner
But I think you knew
For someone dead at half my age
You were always a quick study
And when you got back from India
You let me and the whole of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church know
On Palm Sunday
You said,
“God grant that we shall choose the high way.
Even if it will mean assassination, even if it will mean crucifixion,
For by going this way we will discover that death will be only the beginning of our influence.”
© Hakim Bellamy January 17, 2013
Written for the 5th Annual Amy Biehl High School Martin Luther King Jr. Day of Service & delivered at the 19th Annual Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. March and Celebration in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
UNM Afro-American Studies Program Celebrates 40 years in Documentary
Premier escreening at UNM Student Union Building Theater with founders as panelist
Albuquerque, Nm – 40 years agothis academic year, the University of New Mexico (UNM) was dealing with thesame turmoil the rest of the country was regarding race in America. Thedocumentary that the New Mexico Office of African American Affairs willpremiere at UNM on Wednesday, November 9th artfully presentsAlbuquerque’s place in the Civil Rights Movement.
Not solely thepurview of the southeastern United States, the struggle for full inclusion andfull representation was alive and well on the campus of the University of NewMexico in 1968. The documentary tells the history of the founding of Afro-AmericanStudies (Now two separate entities presently called Africana Studies and AfricanAmerican Student Services) at UNM from the perspective of the two studentswho initiated it (Barbara Brown-Simmons, J.D. and Sam W.D. Johnson, J.D.), UNM’sfirst African American Homecoming Queen (Ms. Mary Sue Gaines), UNM’s firstAfrican American Dean of Students, and the first two directors of theAfro-Studies Program (Dr. Charles Becknell Sr. and Dr. Harold Bailey.)
Dr. Harold Baileyis now the Executive Director of the New Mexico Office of African American Affairswhich acts Executive Producer on this documentary. “During the 1970’s there wasa student movement at the University of New Mexico that influenced change, andpromoted diversity and inclusion,” says Bailey. ”The documentary providesinformation about the Black Experience at UNM during that time and reflects thededication and commitment of those students responsible for the foundation oftoday’s program.”
Thefeature length documentary premiere will begin at noon in the Student UnionBuilding Theater. Admission is free and the event is co-sponsored by UNM BlackStudent Union and UNM African American Student Services. There will be a paneldiscussion after the screening with the student founders, first director andfirst associate dean of students. For more information visit www.oaaa.state.nm.us or call505.222.9405.
40th Anniversary of Afro-American Studies
Run time: 60minutes
Executive Producer: Dr. Harold Bailey, New Mexico Office of AfricanAmerican Affairs
Director: HakimBellamy
Cinematographer:Darryl DeLoach
Premiere Screening: Wed. Nov. 9th @ 12pm UNM Student Union Building Theater
