All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Angels
Growing up I never saw black angels
Only the white ones pictured on the church walls
Blond hair, blue eyes, our differences stood far
Mosaics filled with colors yet lack mine
I wondered why demons were pictured dark, color like mine
I thought I was damned
Thought my future was defined
By the white men- I mean chalk lines
Why angels had softer hair, fairer skin, wings to carry them once you bury them
But when I’m buried,
do the wings grow out my back or does my heart sink to my chest?
Leaving me only to the crust
Floating in what would be limbo while hell awaits for us
Growing up I only saw black angels
No white ones pictured on the news
Only the brown ones were beaten black and blue
Grew up thinking death was upon me like it was for them
Angels can't have curly hair?
Angles can't have brown eyes?
Angels have innocence while I grew up hearing
Otherwise
White lies
Conscience lacking empathy with their hair so silky
Complexion so milky
I felt dirty
Mistreatment, unheard, traumatized
I felt overlooked, though our stories could never be glamorized
Growing up I only saw white angels
Seeing these white angels gave me a sense of hope
That a black child cannot die.
News pans differently but I too see the far cries
I use to read the papers, sounding out the words and turning slow for the pages
Kids like me, barely even older
Why are they angels?
Where are the wings on their shoulders?
The angels painted in the church aren't the ones I see on the news
Black kids names seems so overused
I mix up their stories now, so many I get quite confused.
Power seems abused.
Why aren't those angels black and blue?
Where are their bruises?
Why don't they have bullet holes?
Where are their obituaries, saying how they are great children?
Where are their parents holding onto their caskets?
Mothers hearts giving out
Fathers waiting to work past this
Don't they have toy trains too?
Monopoly and Uno?
Kickball and hide n seek?
Black Barbies and hot wheels?
Sippy cups and pull ups?
All I'm wondering is
Why don't we get to grow up?
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
From this piece, I hope people, no matter their race or ethnicity, will gain and understand the perspective of a black child growing up in America. This piece relates to every part of me. As a black child I constantly had questions on why characters in shows did not look like me or why people who looked like me were treated so differently. I have grown up seeing black faces on the news, social media, and the newspaper almost everyday. Seeing fellow children who were like me on the news dead put fear in me at a young age. I have even seen videos of traumatizing police brutality resulting in death spread across social media. Not only are these black people dying but black children are, some having their life cut short at as young as 7 years old. Whether these deaths and police brutality happen in my city or across the country many of these stories go unheard and names go unknown. These deaths and situations affect the black community heavily but yet this country still seems to ignore the issues it has created. So many black children live in fear and some do not get the chance to grow up because of these issues. With this piece I hope this provides not only perspective but realization of how it is to be a black child in America.