It’s more than color.

It’s more than bone.

And anywhere you drop it,

Is just another home.

And any name you call it,

We turn it into blues.

So goes the song of genius,

We’re still singing, too.

It’s more than blood.

It’s more than flesh.

It’s every inspiration

That hasn’t happened yet.

And anywhere you plant it,

It’s bound to foster fruit.

And all across this planet,

You see the modern proof…

Because we’re more than color,

More than the flesh,

Or bloody bone.

And to say it’s only

Physical…

That’s wrong.

You don’t have to be descended from a Pharaoh.

You don’t have to trace your family back to Kings.

The spirit of the people runs through us all,

Eternal.

It is in you. It is with you.

The song your history sings.

I am Black History.

And that is more than a legacy of pain.

We are more than the span of our shades.

So the sword of

Willful ignorance

Can’t pierce our skin.

Your blindness deserves no response.

Though it comes. Marching forward as generations

Melt into us.

I’ve seen the end, and it’s already come,

For your misguided mythology

Of inferiority.

There is a city that I know well,

Where blended children

Have risen high above the waves

Of hatred.

We are not the response to you.

Don’t need your approval, don’t need to be excused.

With or without you,

We are the future.

It’s more than your false religion,

It’s more than your fear-fueled

Crusades.

We are the influence, we are the current

That can’t be split, only spread.

We are more than the span of our shades…

With or without you,

We are already great.