“For the Brown Kids” emerged from a poem that my good friend Rodrigo wrote that dove into what it’s like to be a brown boy growing up. From stereotypes to issues within the community itself, Rodrigo, a spoken word artist, left tears in my eyes. “I was moved twice over and had to do something with this piece of art.”
For Brown Boys
This is for brown boys trying to be men,
who learned to use a glock before the age of ten.
Never taught to speak with a pen.
Whose youth was lost way back…. when?
this is for them.
Whose cell block, a mirror reflection.
Caged up, no outlets, no friends, no connections.
Who dream in morse code and speak in hymns.
Who chose street corners as their next of kin.
And shoved my inhibitions into this pen.
They told me!…
Whose stories only make the 10 o’clock news.
Who learn to live the blues before they could tie their shoes.
They are forgotten boys who turned into men.
Who want to raise sons…
Teach them songs of struggle, love
To remind them what they are made of.
So when they walk the tightrope, climb the ladder
The essence of their dreams is the only thing that matters.
this is for them
Who know the value of life.
Seen it evaporate into gasped air.
Who craved for your attention but you didn’t care.
Who want to raise daughters into red queens.
Whom believe in all thats forgotten and unseen
Who see the bright light where you see dim.
this is for…
Short order cook boys.
4am newspaper delivery boys.
Door knocking organizing boys
Agitators for change channeling inner organized noise.
For boys without a voice.
Trapped by fear.
For claiming who they are.
For loving being queer.
For every boy forced to grow up too soon.
For their innocence lost and lost wombs.
For those whom never experienced the metamorphosis of their cocoon.
Who ink stories into their flesh.
So they become visible.
So we become invincible.
this is for you,
This is for them..
THIS IS FOR US!.