Living Like Roaches
I don’t want you livin’ with roaches!
Muhammed Ali
Niggas in Portland live like roaches. They seem to only come out at night. Livin’ in the margins, under the baseboard of the city. Niggas scurry about, tryin’ to not be seen. We seem small, live small, shriveled. Its like we haven’t learned to walk at full height, still have our knuckles scraping the ground, back bent.
I went to a Portland Public School meeting, big meeting with most of the school brass present. There was one “black table” full of black principals and it was way off to the side, practically in the parking lot. It was quite revealing as there were free tables in the middle of the room and close to the front. Livin’ like roaches. Its the Portland mentality.
We’ve been beaten down, whipped. And now we’ve learned to like it. Livin’ like roaches.
That’s a hard image. Again, so reminiscent of Toronto where the Black middle class try to keep a low profile as they “climb”…to where? I don’t know exactly. Papi and I recognize them as we run errands. You’re right. Always slouched, pained looking. They seem sort of prune faced, lips tightly pursed or clenched. I used to get a lot of glares from them when I was a young boy dyke. Now, that I’m a Black mama with man and children who covers cleavage that would dearly like to be more free, they smile at me and try to engage in conversation with Stinkapee. They’re impressed by the spark in her eyes and the intelligence they hear in her words. I think they’re drawn to us because we don’t seem a bit like cockroaches. Sad.