Naudia Williams
They say my name ain’t blk enough
Ain’t enough nappy and roots in my syllables
Ain’t enough gutter and grit
Ain’t enough blood spewing from bells of cotton
Ain’t enough pain on its vowels
They say my name don’t holla don’t clap on beat
They say my name don’t season food
Say it don’t make the right kind of potato salad
They say my name ain’t heavy enough to be a martyr or a revolutionary
It’s still holding onto to what Massa gave my great-great-great grandmother
They say my name trying to act white
They say my name really dressed in Blk face
Say my name is boxer braiding cultural appropriation
They say my name ain’t Blk enough
They say it don’t come from the south
They say my name isn’t the hope of the slave
They say my name won’t see graveyards
Won’t know tombstones to early
My name won’t be a hashtag
Say my name won’t be shot in a Lorraine hotel
Or Audubon Ballroom
Won’t be murdered in police custody
Won’t see the field of poplar trees
They say my name ain’t strange fruit
Not a lady that sings the blues
They say
They say
They say
My name ain’t Black enough