Jamila Lyiscott: 3 ways to speak English
Stop what you’re doing and watch this. Especially if you have a problem with AAVE or broken English.
This is wonderful
YES YESYES YES
OMFG, yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes
I feel like the people who can’t relate in the audience look so awkward..
She deserves all the snaps
That was amazing and super good and she’s gorgeous lol
THERE MUST BE A PARAGRAPH BREAK EVERY TIME A NEW CHARACTER SPEAKS
THIS IS NOT OPTIONAL
NO ONE WANTS TO READ ONE BIG BLOCK OF TEXT JESUS CHRIST
REMEMBER TIP TOP OK:
Make a paragraph every time that any of these things change!
When people of colour are expected to educate white people as to their humanity, when women are expected to educate men, lesbians and gay men are expected to educate the heterosexual world, the oppressors maintain their position and evade their responsibility for their own actions.Audre Lorde (via femme-fatale-feminista)
Beltway Poetry Slam - “American Dream”
"Being content is like taking naps in your own grave."
G. Yamazawa, Pages Matam, Clint Smith & Roscoe Burnems, performing during semifinals at the 2014 National Poetry Slam. Subscribe to Button on YouTube!
I wrote it all down in case you aren’t able to listen to it. Here is a transcript of “American Dream”
The American dream is made of quicksand
The harder you fight
The further you’re buried.
Sinking below a prison complex
That uses 4th grade reading scores to project the number of cells needed 10 years later.
Someone explain the difference
Between convicts in the prison and victims of the system.
Something is missing.
The Commissioner is using people as commission.
See, capitalism is like a fisherman that keeps you coming back to the lake
Keep at least a quarter of the population hungry
Work to devour your check
Then tax out the fish you get.
Not recognizing the pennies under our feet when we walk
Like Lincoln was just a stepping stone to our freedom.
We put his face on the only coin with colored skin
When White America did not prosper until it was colored in.
The American dream
Is my breath stretching over oceans trying so hard to not forget my homeland.
The American dream
Is me being black and poor in Virginia confused by the term Commonwealth.
The American dream
Is being born wrapped into a star spangled banner with a red hole in it.
The American dream
Is teaching in a school with more barricades than books
Building a wall where we’re all brick layers for the same idea.
But I’ve learned the price for having an ocean on your tongue
Because, even when you have all of your papers
The rock and hard place of a country that wants to cut you out
Will always win when it shoots.
This is the fruit of our founding fathers.
But after strawberry season we go President picking in November
It’s a distraction that makes it hard for the masses to remember
That the declaration of independence is dependent on race and gender
But we all breathe the same.
We must make dream catchers of our hands
Weaving our fingers like baskets of prayer
Our actions are the only way our dreams will live
Whether it’s poems, presidents, or pain
Being content is like taking naps in your own grave.
The American dream is struggling
The American struggle is dreaming
The struggling American dreams.
When the security is a lot more political than it is social
Who you are will always clash with whom a society beckons of you
Wishing for white picket flesh
While living with section 8 bones
On the wasteland of the free
Home of the braves
Hand over your heart
Like a small pox blanket
The American dream is institution
It is immigrant experience or
People are more concerned about my students being documented
Than they are about them being human.
From Arizona SB 1070 to New York Stop and Frisk
America show us your papers
Who documented your dreams?
Because the work of our hands
And how we decide to shape this world
Is the deciding difference between drowning or dreaming
And when we finally reach the surface
Sarah Kay (via hqlines)
If I should have a daughter…“Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”
She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.
And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”
But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.
I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind. Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, “There’ll be days like this my momma said” when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.
You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting I am pretty damn naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.”
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.