1. |
This Melanin Is
02:40
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This Melanin is…
By Steve Fitzhugh
Like, black gold…precious,
No currency can capture the true worth of its value
Like, the hidden treasure at the end of a rainbow, indescribable…it is
Like, everything good in a childhood dream
Provoking smiles of what could one day come true
This melanin is….
Like, a secret ingredient seasoning earth’s first man
To ever become the flavor of life
Nothing like it…it is, like nothing else
A skin-bound pigmentation, like built-in amour,
Impenetrable protection from the ultraviolet assault of the sun
No laboratory can produce it, no scientist design it,
Only the Giver of Gifts-the Great Creator,
Can apportion it, and that he did,
To the ancestors bronze and beautiful
This Melanin is…timeless, endless, ageless survived
This melanin in you, by fate by providence, alive
Stronger than captivity, a proclivity to arise,
The whip could not tame it, disgrace could not shame it
Hate could not silence it, quiet it, or cripple it
Though man abused it and freedom eluded it
Even dripped, it did, from the leaves of the strange-fruit trees
But this melanin…this melanin is… still…here!
Like a, preamble to a return to glory it is
Like a, victory relentlessly stalking its winning season,
Its triumph, its hour to shine
This melanin is destined one day…
No longer to flow like blood in the street
But, I decree it shall be cherished, to repeat
Its original intended prominence
Civilization’s divine genesis of all that is
Good, honorable, exceptional, noble and true
For generations to come…this melanin is….
In me…driving me…moving me to win
Defeat forever denied by this melanin within,
This be true
So tell us great descendant of old
How goes it, today, how goes it today,
with this melanin…that be in you?
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2. |
A Strange Fit
01:58
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A Strange fit
By Steve Fitzhugh
Suit and tie for my chance to shine
On time and confident
I’m sorry sir, the interviewer said
For this job you just don’t fit
I grinded hard, the best by far
Degreed, indeed, legit
Time and again I heard them say
For this job you just don’t fit
Again, denied again, I cried
Determined not to quit
Among the best on every test
Strangely, never do I fit
In route one day to get my son
I earned a cop’s attention
What’s going on sir, why these cuffs
I fit, he said, the description
Please, there must be some mistake
What trait, sir, triggered suspicion?
Black, male, all it seems it took
To shame me by detention
Was he tall? Short? Or medium build?
Sir, I promise I’m not the one
Mustache? Beard? Or was he bald?
Sir, I need to get my son
Humiliated like, less than a man
Stomach tied with toxic tension
Choking back my angry words
Survival now, my only mission
Drama-weary, traumatized
Innocent victim, broken system
For color of skin, I’m forced again to contend
With how I strangely fit the description
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3. |
Tribute To Greatness
03:31
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Tribute To Greatness
By Steve Fitzhugh
It’s good to give praise to our God for the things that he has done
He guaranteed our victory by giving us his son
So glad his promise and his will did not perish in the grave
But three days later like he said his son came forth to save
Centuries have passed and I stand in awe of the mighty one revealed
For in me, a sinner, born again the holy works his will
Amazing how he demonstrates his love for all mankind
Red or yellow, black or white his pardon all may find
But today we note the ways in which he’s used the darker race
To manifest his brilliance ingenuity love and grace
Though forbidden to even read or write a few decades ago
We wrote the first Almanac telling farmers when to sow
Once auctioned off a s property upon the trading block
We still became the inventors of the first American clock
We saw into the future yes, we exercised our minds
We invented the first stoplight a major improvement upon stop signs
We worked hard we worked smart never stopped till we were through
We even out-worked the horse until we invented the first horseshoe
Charles Drew a brilliant man but its God that we must thank
God had to say to Drew why you don’t invent the first blood bank
Dr. Daniel Williams a true masterpiece was he
Successful open-hear surgery way back in 1893
Granville Woods, pure genius and as diligent as a mouse
You’ll find his patents at GE, AT&T and Westinghouse
Garrett Morgan ladies your respect I’m sure he’s earned
He developed the solution that perfected your last perm
Augustus Jackson one day had a taste for something sweet
He loved the little children so he made for them a treat
Come this summer when you order your next double-dip supreme
Thanks cousin Gus he was the first to make for us ice cream
Thanks Eli Whitney, Booker T, Thanks Dr. Louis Wright
Thank you Major Robert Lawrence the first Black Astronaut I flight
Thank Charles Richey, Elijah McCoy and our friend G. Washington Carver
There’s only on use of the peanut most thought
I know 100 said Carver think harder
Air conditioning, ironing board the clothes dryer they made
The first Black PH.D? Nineteen, Edward Alexander Bouchet
The list goes on and on, the accomplishments are great
Man says it’s impossible, God says just watch and wait
The words African American contain a hidden clue
The last four letters of each word reveal precisely what we can do
Trust in God obey his will and live with his plan
The last four letters of these two words will shout, “ I can! I can! I can!”
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4. |
Free Indeed
05:12
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Free Indeed
By Steve Fitzhugh
Free. No chains on my feet
No whip on my back
Cast iron braces no longer restrict
The movement of my limbs
For I am free aren’t I
Free. My name is not “darkie”
My name is not “boy”
Potato sacks and hand-me-downs
No longer comprise my wardrobe
Master don’t confine me
To the plantation no more
I move as I please
For I am free aren’t I
Free to read, free to write
Free to vote
Fred to do and say
Free to come and go
Freedom is good and I am Free!
But why does this freedom
Hurt not heal
Why does freedom
Bind my upwards aspirations
To status quo behavior
Free?
I say I am free
But I must wear the right suit
The right shoes
The right cologne
Purchased with the right salary
And working for the right company
Free?
I say I am free but I must drive the car
I must meet the right people
I must live in the right Neighborhood
I must say the right things
I must own the right credit cars
And of course I must have the right combination
Of consonants and vowels follow my full name
Mere academic decorations
BA, JD, MBA, Ph.D.
But I call myself free.
Although I am free
I must render immaculate credentials
To get that entry level job
Of which I am already overqualified
Though I am free
I also become invisible
When promotion and opportunity
Are distributed among my dark-suited
White collared peers, boring clones
Mere mundane masters of
Assimilation and conformity
Though I am free
I must painstakingly watch the spoon feeding
Of an inadequate social support system
Into the mouths of my sisters and brothers
Welfare, food stamps
Unemployment checks, EBT cards
All creating hopeless dependency
Unbearable, seemingly unending
Yet free I am I proclaim
Society has dropped the visible bonds
But chains I do not see
Cripple my mind puncture my hope
And transform my gazelle-like stride
African in nature
Into a pathetic comfortable crawl
Simply because my eyes are open
Yet my head and heart are blind
So I now sheepishly claim that I am free
Oh yes, I am free to cultivate my mind
Study, read, grow, but since my youth
I’ve grown addicted to television
Noise now fills my world
Two strong brothers, reflection and meditation
Who once facilitated inner growth and wisdom
Now find themselves denied by my car stereo
Drowned by my headphones, and man-handled
By my multifunction
Home entertainment center
CD, DVD, MP3, INT-ER-NET
But I call myself F-R-E-E, Free!
Character, Integrity, Morality
Strain to set standards in my world
Yet can barely be heard over the voice
Of compromise, my new master…
Sneaking into my thoughts through
Newspaper or magazines
Or invading my privacy through
Streaming frequencies
I say I am free, we are free
But in the eyes of my people
Another story is told
Defeat is assumed, Mediocrity presumed
Complacency resumed So I ask myself
Are we free? Am I free?
Freedom Constrained by
Oppression, racism and hatred
Is a living lie
I claim to be free but
I cannot see or feel the struggle
I am living the lie
What then is freedom?
When I see the hurting
And learn to heal
I am free
When see the down trodden
And learn to lift up
I am free
When I see the brokenhearted
An learn to cry
I am free
When I see the wayward
And learn to give counsel
I am free
When I see the lonely
An learn to be a friend
I am free
When I see the uneducated
And learn to teach
I am free
When I see the homeless
And learn compassion
I am free
When I see the selfishness
And learn to give
I am free
When I see the buying
And learn to save
I am free
When I see the shackles
And learn liberation
I am free
When I see the bitterness
And learn to forgive
I am free
When I see the oppression
And learn to over come
I am free
When I see the racism
And learn to express dignity
I am free
When I see the hatred
And learn to love
I am free
For freedom is a revelation
Not an autograph n a proclamation
Freedom is knowing and doing
Freedom is seeing
But seeing is in vain
If acting does not follow
Thus when I know and do
When I see and act
Only then can I say
I am truly
Free Indeed.
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5. |
Dichotomy
07:09
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dīˈkädəmē by Steve Fitzhugh
Far back as I can remember I starred on a team
It just sorta came to me like that
Football, basketball, baseball, track
Though it flowed don’t get it twisted I had to work hard too
They say, the more daddy can help you to
Practice what you play
Chances go way up, that you go all the way
But…not where I’m from, not many daddies around
But I still got down, I got down and just a kid I first heard folks
Screamin’ my name at the game
At the game they were screamin’ my name
Championship thunder roared in my high school
Had to learn real quick though, to play by the rules
Because of dangers, toils and snares
You never know which teammate next disappears
Some better than me…blue-chippers
He got caught, he did not, he locked up, that one shot...dead
And that one? That one, he’s a father of two... stone-cold beast
On the field, mad skills the best of our crew, but he quit school
Not me, I gotta make it do what it do, for you, momma
Can you hear them screamin’ my name at the game
At the game they was screamin’ my name
I signed d-1, made All-American too
When I came out, third pick, round two, the whole city knew
This team…was-a-bout…to-win, people tellin’ friends
To watch me, the rook, ESPN top 10
First things first, momma gets the hook-up, yeah boy, I thought you knew
Brand new car, all her own, next a new home
And me? Me? Well, every thing changed, all in one night…
…Rear view mirror…flashin’ blue light...
“Hello officer is there a problem?”
With care and caution I began this “meeting”
“Is this your vehicle?” He asked
I was still lookin’ for the common courtesy of a greeting
“Yessir it is”, I calmly replied…here we go…
I spoke the truth, he assumed I lied
‘Cause in a voice, disrespectful, dishonorable and loud
He asked again, as if he was my daddy, and like I was his child
“Are you sure this vehicle’s yours?”
Oh no he didn’t… oh yes he did
‘Spensive car like that and behind the wheel,
Me...young...hoodie…Black
Inside of me somethin’ was drivin’ me to defend my manhood, my honor
To rebuke this man’s shameful dishonesty assumption
But I had to self-check that unction
When I felt dignity risin’ in my throat ‘bout to jump out demandin‘ respect
Heart pumpin’ anger all up into my eyes…I realized, wait I thought to myself
I’m…just one…mis-spoken word away from being a toe-tag-statistic
And watchin’ another hood burn and turn ballistic?
Naw…naw…cain’t let it happen, had to shut it down
Though from my heart on my head I see a crown
Tonight, humbled again, I just…bow…down, these natural emotions
Back home it never happened before
But in this NFL city, it was the first stop of 8 stops
In two and a half years, how long can a young proud man
Swallow his pride, fight back his tears, while on Sunday…
On Sunday they’ll be screamin’ my name at the game…
At the game they’ll still be screamin’ my name
It’s my jersey that’s worn by the stadium thousands
Endorsements, promotions, autographs, sponsors
Game-day fanatics know well my name
But, they don’t know the hurt, cain’t feel my pain
Eyes but not seein’, ears that don’t hear
Grown man and in my prime, but somehow Trayvon’s fear…?
Trayvon Martin’s fear…was mine! And Philando Castile? Yeah, that’s was me too!
Tamir Rice? Me! Michael Brown? Me, and again
Sandra Bland…Eric Garner…me and me and me and
U-su-al-ly, at the final count, the Black one dead, the blue one free
How do I say to my country tis of thee
My, sweet land of liberty, that this cannot be?
Thought this was the home of the brave? Land of the free?
Pain sustained is agony, like systematic misery
And still on Sunday they’ll be screamin’ my name at the game
At the game they’ll be screamin’ my name
All my life…
Before each competition I’ve always honored tradition,
And do again, today, on this my brief Sunday-stage
With reverence and respect to the emblem of our freedom
I pronounce to my country from this bended knee …my dichotomy
On one hand alive and free, on the other hand, me and mine are suffocating
In the fatal fog of racial injustice…I…can’t…breathe, can…not…pro-ceed…
With-this-game-un-aware, not blind, not deaf, not hateful or disrespectful
Just woke, to the fear and the cries of the disenfranchised,
The marginalized…the traumatized
Gone! It’s another him. Gone! It’s another her. Gone! It’s another me that’s passed
But not in vain because the long dark shadow of this pain
Has now finally been cast…on you…on us,
Hoping it’s recognized, praying it’s processed
‘Cause my privileged access…expires on average in about 3 1/2 years
Brave as the bold of yesterday, who gave-it-all for the right of us today, honorably I must
Act-now, I must speak-up, I must sit-in, I must stand-tall,
I must kneel-down, I must march-on...whatever it takes, I must
‘Cause I have a Dream for a better day, and like M.L. King, it’s for my children’s well-being,
For this is my time, but it’s for their future and those who look like me,
And hurt like me, and grieve like me. Don’t you see? I saw me shot dead on TV,
Unarmed and layin’ in the street, it was just last night
Viewer discretion again strongly advised shield the kids eyes from these gruesome acts
Different the story, same are the facts...and I wonder still…
Momma…momma…can you hear’em’ screamin’ my name at the game
Same sad song like nothing is wrong insane how they just keep on screamin’ my name
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Steve Fitzhugh Minneapolis, Minnesota
Steve is an international speaker, best-selling author, entrepreur, educator and humorist. He is also a former NFL athlete and contnues with the NFL today as a Certified NFL Transition Coach.
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