The letter N was my earliest nemesis
before pretext stops
Or dad’s chemo appointments
Or “ you’re so well spoken”
N was there
Filling up report cards
Siren call to my parents
Inviting ass whoopings
And lectures on how things fall apart
But what’s the harm of a little conversation and well timed joke
In spaces where black boys thirst for levity
And the Ms. Fosters of the world call my house
Screaming put that boy on Rittlin
Black boys must be controlled
Its for his own good, many have done it before
Mom telling her to get the fuck out of here, but more diplomatically
I took three buses for this?
M to M program, aint fixing 350 years worth
Give him what Anniston and Mobile didn’t have
A leg up, access, exposure
Tour the preps and privates
Token negro here and there
Is this 2000 or 1968?
Dad, its too many white kids, dont send me here
Boujie negroes say don’t stress, you can be black at home
How easily
We lose our kids
25 years later I’m in the same boat
Neighborhood school is real familiar
Marcus and Maya on the walls
Classes the size of concerts
Pathway to Ivies winding and perilous
Safety equals resources
So I’m taking those same tours
Visiting where negroes banned not too long ago
Now DEI masquerading
Searching high and low for our reflection
Black parenthood
Shouldn’t be this hard
Leon A. Parker is a writer based in Detroit, Michigan. Inspired by departed loved ones, Leon’s writing explores the complexities and beauty of the Black experience. He’s a proud father, avid traveler, and devotee of Outkast.