I don't want my daughter growing up in the windrush generation.(50s-60s)
When they came here for a celebration.
What does it mean to be black?
What does it mean to British?
Am I finished?
My grandparents came here for a better life.
Seeing opportunities climbing onto to buses.
Overcoming obstacles or barriers.
Finding out who I am.
Whilst in the midst of losing who I am.
Identity,roots or culture.
Isn't being here just like a vulture.
Where is my culture?
British and proud.
That's the only language that is spoken.
Parents wanted their voice.
Cut up and broken.
Am I bottle smashed open?
Music is my passion.
Parents told stories of churches
Where they found communion.
This was what made them human.
Reggae music dreadlocks.
The Bedrocks: Symarip and Aswad.
That's what life is made of.
House parties.
Life was just a party.
The equals they started listened to as a kid; grew up with Eddy Grant.
Smiley culture.
Dad's personal favourite Labbi Stiffe.
Was almost poetic ,magnetic resonance wherever you go.
Roots start with your hair there is nothing there: embrace it , let it go and show it .
I would never lay my head on a coffin not going back to my home.
That I do not own.
So many people were left behind.
There is only remorse I can find .
YOU ARE READING
Only a Number Not a Name
Short StoryIts about fictional rasicism in England. In how I would approach racism whilst trying to combat white saviorism. Showing that we all struggle, how the 2 characters communicate in how they treat each other with respect and will do whatever it takes t...
