Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

Langston Hughes, 1902 - 1967

Oh America, what will the outcome be when the numbers are in and we get the final count?  This is a very historical event this 8th day of November 2016.  I prayed a prayer that whatever happens for God to keep America safe and to cover the believers of the truth.  Remember whatever happens, God has it under control.  Keep your faith in God.

My experience in America has shown me that not everyone sees through the same lens as I.   I remember when I was cleaning out a closet at my old school.  I came across some old American flags.  I was getting ready to toss them in the trash.  My co-worker halted my action abruptly by yelling out “No, you can’t just throw them away!”  She explained to me that if you discard an American Flag it has to be done ceremonially.  She instructed me to fold them back up and place them back into the closet.  I honestly didn’t know.  I was the teacher who just stood silent during the pledge of allegiance, hands to my side.  The “liberty and justice for all” part was never my truth.

Everyone’s truth is different and formed from different experiences from their individual lives.  My point of view stems from my faith in God and an overwhelming sense of black pride. My father and mother taught us about our culture, our music, our strength and our legacy.  Therefore I understand the importance of voting, although ultimately God is in control, I went to vote.  I voted for Hillary.

I opened with an excerpt from a poem by Langston Hughes because it is a testament that not everyone has the same “land of the free” experience in America.  I’m not trying to discredit the good parts of this country, I just want to make people aware that their perspective is not the only perspective.  Therefore I can theorize that my perspective is bias because it is coming from me.  My personal experiences make up who I am.  The values, the morals, and ideals that my family taught me as an African American female in this country have formed my thoughts, opinions, and reactions towards American patriotism.  To me, it is really no big deal.  It, patriotism, really isn’t a thing at all to me.

The previous statement may sound very surprising to most who know me personally.  I guess they wouldn’t know if I were patriotic or not because we never really talked about it.  And so I thought to myself, how would you know if someone was a racist if you never really talked about it? This is just my thought process as I’m listening to the numbers come in from the polls.  How could Trump win the state of Ohio?  

From my perspective, Trump exhibits many characteristics of a racists.  His language towards other cultures, demeaning human beings, and insisting that segregation would bring something good back to America?  Trump signs and confederate flags are up in yards and my consensus tell me that people are living in a racist bubble.  A more subtle thirteen star circle flag adorn flag poles that I drive by often.  This so called “Betsy Ross flag” stands for a time when it was ok to lynch slaves, and yet it is being used in a presidential campaign? These flags are up in my neighborhood.  I am a little scared.  I am scared for my son and my nephews.  But I guess we won’t talk about that America.

I was in search for a poem that I had come across years ago while researching the Harlem Renaissance.  I found “Let America be America Again” first, but I was really looking for “I too sing America.”  I fell in love with the hope and the temperature of the words.  This poem has inspired much of my own 'American' poetry to spring forth.  I relate to it and I’m sure many Americans can relate because we are all looking for respect and appreciation for who we are:

I, Too, Sing America

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.

They send me to eat in the kitchen

When company comes,

But I laugh,

And eat well,

And grow strong.

Tomorrow,

I’ll be at the table

When company comes.

Nobody’ll dare

Say to me,

“Eat in the kitchen,”

Then.

Besides,

They’ll see how beautiful I am

And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.

(Langston Hughes)

What will be the outcome of this election?  What will happen if Trump really won?  Unbelief.  It would be unbelievable that so many people are still living in their bubble and can’t open their minds wide enough to realize that other opinions matter.  Oh America, may God bless you, protect you and have mercy on you.  

The following poem was something I wrote in response to the killings of innocent African American men at the hands of police officers earlier this year:

I Live America

I’m cold here

Not loved by the loving stripes and tattered souls that claim the claim of victory old

I crave the love that freedom molds but lay awake from the lies it’s told

I in fear, I run, I hide, fighting with the fear inside

I rise, I fall, pushed down to get dead, it is so hard to lift my head

Crying voices, expectancy choices, yell out, stay down, stay down

Then crack, crack  boom, and the scream it shakes, visions terrorise me, my soul it breaks

No one can see how my body aches, the scars are hidden inside of me

I'm down, I'm down, how far should I go?  I’m already broken, I’m already sold

I’m so cold here, for my former shelter, no replica, I lost my home long ago, now I live America

I’m cold here

I try to live the best I can, making a living to live again

I’m the self that tells self you can, keep going, keep striving you’ll make it my friend

But something has happened and something has changed

The peace that I felt has become rearranged

I saw him, I let him, I left him alone, not sharing the fight that he goes through alone

I cry for my sons with a deep pitiful moan, a weeping concern, a crunching soul groan

No one can see how blindly I roam, searching, not finding the comforts of home

I’m trapped in a hope that was lost in delusion, a toil of youth, a seed of confusion

I used to live in a world full of hope, humming freedom of fa la la

but now I cry out, oh how do I live, oh how do I live America

(Tamorra Goldsboro)

My friends, we are now in the moment of time where the struggle has to be rebirthed because of the lackadaisical approach that we as an American people have taken in our journey of equality advancement.  We have raised a generation that does not know nor understand the struggle that African Americans have endured in this country.  I see it creeping back into existence; the hate, the fear, and the uncertainty of a peaceful future.  We all just want to be happy and fulfilled in life.  Unfortunately, that means so many different things to so many different people.

    Just so you know, I practice love.  I love with the love of Jesus and I know that God has everything under control.  God bless you on your journey to be the very best you, you can be.  Until next time.

-Tamorra