A Cup of Tee' and a lil' dash of honey

An open letter to the black kings I'm afraid of losing

There's a chip on your shoulder from the day you've born into the world, I understand.

It doesn't stem from just your past, the present or the uncertainty that is your future but a combination of all of the above.

They like to refer to it as ancient history when it isn't far enough away because you can still see the grief in your great grandmothers eyes when you ask her about your family tree.. how many siblings did she have and how come she will only name off her mother's children?

It's still so close you can hear you the sound of your grandfather's heart pumping too fast as his anger took over that one time you called your little brother nigga in his presence. You'll remember the look in his eye forever because he looked at you like you had broken his heart and killed all of his dreams.

You are told the chip doesn't exist, that you're making it up to play the victim role yet they don't know how the oppression you try to ignore feels beating down your neck every day you hear the phrase 'make America great again". Or you walk into department store only to be followed around like criminal.

For that I am sorry, brother you aren't imagining things.

They'll never understand the agony and frustration that runs through your veins knowing that you are as unprotected in this world as a newborn baby without a loved one to hear it's cry. How helpless you feel as they instruct you to follow the rules and laws that were made for them, by them in the country that is just as rightfully yours as theirs no matter how they try to rewrite history.

Your world, your country.. the land of the free but built on the back of slave will forever belong to you. The broken backs from exhaustion of field picking, the black bodies that line the ocean floor thrown overboard on the journey no one wanted to take, and millions of men just like you who were beaten, hung, and shot down weren't taken as sacrifice but were stolen from our families, from our lives. My brothers, my kings.. your reparations are the justice and peace you only want but they won't give.

We, us, your sisters are always there for you to give all the strength,love and warmth you can bare as you carry the burden that world as placed on your shoulders because of the color of your skin. Our shoulders are forever here for you to lean on and cry if you will. Our hearts are continuously open to hear your pleads as you bear the emotions you aren't allowed to have out in the world because they will be seen as weaknesses... something you can't have even in a time of need.

Brothers dripped in melanin gold, so regal the world can't handle your royalness. Your sisters value you in all the ways, how you find strength in the words of Malcolm X & Marcus Garvey yet and still can be so free spirited to appreciate the comedic genius of Martin & Fresh Prince at the same damn time. The words I appreciate you, I care for you will never amount up to love that your sisters have you for.

There's no right way to end this letter, it just doesn't feel right so we'll just leave it open always... just like our arms for you.

- With love, signed your sisters who love you forever ❤