The expression of hatred for your enemies is sometimes the only way to end self-hatred. - June Jordan

This is the difficult miracle of Black poetry in America: that we persist, published or not, and loved or unloved: we persist.

poem for my love

how do we come to be here next to each other in the night
where are the stars that show us to our love inevitable
outside the leaves flame usual in darkness and the rain
falls cool and blessed on the holy flesh
the black men waiting on the corner for a womanly mirage
i am amazed by peace
it is this possibility of you
asleep
and breathing in the quiet air

Sure enough, we have plenty of exposure to white everything so why would we opt to remain our African/Asian/Mexican selves? The answer is that suicide is absolute, and if you think you will survive by hiding who you really are, you are sadly misled: There is no such thing as partial or intermittent suicide. You can only survive if you — who you really are — do survive.