I AM A BLACK MAN IN AMERICA...

I AM A BLACK MAN IN AMERICA
by William Fredrick Cooper
Written November 5th, 2008

Sometimes I’m up, then too again, I’m down
Sometimes, I’m almost, leveled to the ground,
Lord, I’m tired of being lied on, tired of being stripped and scorned,
How long, will it be?

-Taken from “Tell Me How Long…”

Stripping me of my origins, removing me from my warm climate and the harmony of ancestral bliss, you brought me here, against my wishes. Sometimes in my own vomit and feces but always, always in shackles and chains, many of my brothers never completed this cruel journey, for some were fed to sharks or impaled by long, rusty nails on a wooden bed I never asked to lay my head on.

But God never allowed you to kill my soul, even when forced to live as a Black Man in America.

Working from dawn till dusk upon my arrival, all the while enduring inhumane, harsh realities, you tried to break me. Feeding my brain with illiteracy, incompetency, insecurity and inadequacy, even a glimpse of my inherited strength was cause for confinement in corn cribs and tool sheds, the branding of my skin, or my tongue being slit in two. Worse yet, the savage stripes of 39 lashes on my back at a public flogging, to teach others who looked like me “a lesson.” Alternatively toiling in extreme heat and bone-freezing cold, in plantation fields for your prosperity, or in your house serving your ego, you just loved being called “Massa.” My mouth said such, but the raging fire in my soul was quelled by a voice from Above. Pouring an unspoken truth into me, more of Him became all of me. While I lay bloodied, battered and bruised, it was only through His will that a faint whisper was heard.

You’ll never break my spirit, even as I try to survive as a Black Man in America.

Using me as a mule and a breeder, then separating me from my family while treating me like a leper, I watched in silent horror as you, your family members and owner friends raped the most treasured part of my existence, my queen. Imposing your racism and thrusting your hatred for me within her core, my anger bordered on unspeakable fury as children looking like you were produced.

Lord, please forgive my oppressors, for they know not what they are doing, I cried out with compassion.

Psychologically castrated, emasculated and humiliated, but never devastated, if I were caught trying to escape the insane asylum you called a normal life, you chopped a foot off. However in most cases I stayed and endured your darkness. Seeing the progress for my people as well as stories of faith to share with other brothers in a lurch, God filled my body with the resolve and spirit of Paul when writing that second letter to the Corinthians.

You threw me down, but a Black Man in America will not be destroyed.

After slavery, any time I spoke of equal treatment, you threatened my life and those I loved, then audaciously said with a straight face that it was for my own protection. Foolishly, I sought your approval by heroically fighting in wars emanated from your dissension. Alas, even when representing your country, you were wedded to the notion that I was dishonest, cowardly and inferior. Yet you still needed my assistance for your cause. Loyal, even while segregated in battle, foreigners told me constantly, “This is not your war”, while slaughtering my body with bullets and bayonets. Returning home to your hypocrisy in democracy not as a conquering hero recognized for his bravery and valor, but to continued separatism and unwelcome pariah status, even in uniform, I was maimed and shot at by mobs and local authorities.

Winning Olympics medals for you to discourage Hitler, in your eyes I remained an animal when racing horses just to survive. Knocking out heavyweight hopes in boxing matches to disprove Aryan supremacy, my courage was rewarded with mountainous tax debts despite my generous donations to your military might. Bravely, I spoke up for my family and community, and you burned my churches down. Nary a truth could be voiced against your madness, or the ultimate penalty was suffered. With glee coming from hooded eyes I never saw, somehow I recognized the letters KKK as you fractured my skull, knocked my eyeballs out with sticks, chopped off digits from hands, pulled raw flesh from me, and then mercifully, burned me alive or strung me up on trees. A lynching was a relief to me, for I was going home to a God who stilled loved me.

You tortured and killed the body, but the soul and spirit of a Black Man in America always lives.

With a courage and resolve you find implausible, indestructible and incomprehensible to this day, selflessly, I soldiered on. Innately knowing the risks for the progression, power and peace of millions to follow and fortified with the faith of my Father, still I must endure. That was the reward, I told myself, even when hoses full blast from hating crows named Jim drenched my hope; vicious attacks from dogs ate away at my resolve; milk and paint tossed in my face stained my dreams for better days; and the assassinations of those who believed in change left me weary and wary. Sometimes the way was dark at night, and the load hard to bear, but if I could just lean on a savior named Jesus who was always there and never let my faith waver, I knew everything would be alright.

Even in the deepest valleys, a Black Man in America always sees the top of the mountain.

And today, a Black Man in America, in spite of all obstacles, and with the aid of a helpmate who in her own strength understands that it’s not about competing against each other, but complementing one another while putting God first, will always reach the summit. Even if I endure racial slurs when crossing color lines and ‘Dear Nigger love letters’ when breaking home run records; even when dealing with brothers who aren’t completely down with the struggle; (You know them very well in past and present. Take a bow, Anti-Affirmative Action Activist masquerading as a Supreme Court Justice. A round of applause for all infiltrators of the 1960’s revolutionary movement as per the directive of a cross-dressing racist. Or those in the 21st Century real time polluting our neighborhoods with guns and drugs.) even when saying “I’m sorry” and “I still love you, my queen” with humility to some our own women still angry at our imperfections and waiting to exhale in love; even as I struggle to bridge an emotional chasm built on waters of resentment by becoming a better father to my sons and daughters; even when breaking traditional stereotypes by putting my emotions on public display in an effort to show a masculine completeness never understood; and most importantly, with help from My heavenly father, I, William Fredrick Cooper, a Black Man in America, will always stand tall.

And today, because of our patience, persistence and perseverance for the sake of change, God has given us a blessing. After years of trials and tribulation, there is finally triumph. At 11:00 PM on Tuesday November 4th, 2008, a Black Man in America, Barack Obama became the 44th President of the United States.

“They can keep the 40 acres… A Black Man in America has the keys to the White House!!!!”