Yours Is Not My Definition Of Black. Poem by belinda mrwebi

There are too many lies floating in this space.
Glorified misinterpretations have suddenly become the new definition of black.
We have suddenly accepted the unfounded declarations about who we are and who we ought to be.
We welcome their lies with a smile and suppress our truth in hope that the snakes we sit with across at the dinner table will one day turn into lambs.
We work with them, educate them and allow them to be a part of our lives in hope that they may see past this black and know that we too are part of the human race.
We hope that they may look at us and see more than just slaves in need of masters.
We hope!
That hope is a lie.
This is how they see us.
"Black the colour of objects that do not emit or reflect light in any part of the visible spectrum"
Calling black the absence of light, deeply enveloped in darkness.
We have suddenly become the pity of the world, the personification of shame and a reflection of poverty.
Brewers of corruption, criminals from birth, the barbaric lost nation needing redemption from their gods.
Black has become the race un-favoured buy its own creator, a burden to the world's economy.
This is how they see us.

These are the lies we have allowed to infiltrate not only our land but our minds giving birth to a self-hating nation leading us to black on black violence.
We have begun to see ourselves through their eyes and carry the burden of inferiority.
We are now immune to the black conditions in every township because they have made us believe that this is where we belong.
We no longer have a place to bury the bones of those who have worked this land because we own nothing and to them we are nothing.
We no longer tell the history of our people, because it has suddenly become too irrelevant for the new South Africa.
Our people, our story ……irrelevant? ? ?
There are truths hidden in the borders of this continent that long to be told.
This creeping silence of who we are and where we have been is not of purity and peace but of fear.
So today I stare at the mirror with my own eyes, taking off the goggles that show me the world's view of black.
Today I look at you black race and seek to see you as God created you.
I look closer at this skin, seeking the traces of who we were before our minds were polluted.
I look closer to see the truth they conveniently forgot while they were writing history books.
Seeking my own definition of what it means to be black in this life.
The is neither glory nor deep fascination in the colour black, but the true honour is in the people who were killed, dehumanised, stolen from and striped of their identity all because they were black.
Yours is not my definition of black.
Because black to me is but a colour, who I am is who God is.
By: Belinda Mrwebi