Black Reality

Before high school, I could never understand the reality of the situation I was put into in life. Not a specific situation, but a situation that had been happening since the beginning of my life till now— being Black in America. The realization had happened when I had become a junior in high school. I have been in a Black Reality.

When I walked into my AP Language class, I had awareness of my place in America, down to history and brutalities. I had no clue of the present implications of this skin of mine. Being in that class was when the shift to reality had finally begun. I expected to learn better ways to write and convey arguments, but instead I learned that and then some. Our teacher had handed us a book. “A New Jim Crow,” by Michelle Alexander. I was completely confused. A New Jim Crow … what did I miss?

“Read and add post-it notes to every page. I’ll be checking,” she said.

“So we have to read this whole book?” someone said bravely.

“Make sure it’s done by the end of the month,” she said. I almost felt like it was a

burden.

I decided to start reading it when I went home and it gave me an instant connection from the touch. My reality started to crumble around me as I opened the book and read the contents. The walls meant for the security of my mind were being broken down, and my senses were changing with them. When I read the first pages, I remember them talking about the prison system. It explained how private prisons and prisons as a whole exploit the rehabilitation of the black race. It forces us back into unpaid labor legally, so that’d mean one thing— slavery still exists. My first wall cracked. All of a sudden a black smoke came into the room of my mind. It clouded it as I read the words. I was so invested in the book I had envisioned that prison room. The lack of freedom, the lack of rights— the only thing left was labor and dehumanization. I could almost Feel those shackles. I did Feel those shackles. I snapped back to reality and I still Felt the weight they gave me.

Next day, I came into class and we discussed it. It clarified my early suspicions that prison was just another way to keep slavery in tact. Our teacher had sent us off with just this: “Make sure you all read the next chapter. We'll discuss it in class.” I opened the next pages and it had talked about the laws put in place to put us in prison. The drug war, the fact that they made certain drugs illegal just to put us below everyone else. The fact that they allowed stop and frisk to go on for so long, and the fact that as soon as someone is out of prison they lose their human rights. I started to See the shackles. The walls had cracked once more. I See the rough web in every corner of society that cuts me down. Puts me in a community with my people and let us fight amongst ourselves just to keep us down. I could now See the racism within everything. The chains that were attached to every part of the institution. Why do all the chains lead back to me? The question came up but I couldn’t understand because the answer “I’m Black” wasn’t enough.

We finished the book and it was great. We went onto the next lesson and it was about the connection between race and class. Maybe this could finally answer my question. My teacher had said something to bring me to a revelation. “They trick the poor white people into thinking the poor black people are the problem, which causes the poor to be poor.” That sentence echoed through my head, the words getting louder and louder. This time the crack was thunderous. I could Hear the shackles shuffling through my body. The wall was crumbling. Now that I could Hear and understand the situation I was in, everything became clearer. I could Smell the rust on the shackles, the scheme the institution had cooked up for me. They keep the poor in their class by spreading ignorance to them. You give the white people someone to blame, you never get to team up and beat them. If the poor united and recognized the problem, they’d be done for. Now it had all dawned on me.

When you’re black, they make you Feel less of a human. So they built a prison system designed to keep your people in the shackles you once had. To force you back into that slave labor that we were in for so long. They have to See you behind those shackles, behind those bars. So they have to change the law system to get there. They have to make laws to make sure that you get in that system, and when you do get involved with that prison system, they ensure your life is over. So the only escape is to go back to that prison they pre-ordered for you. They make sure you and no one else can Hear those shackles. If they do, they'll start to notice the problem. Make sure black history isn’t taught in the books, or spread racist beliefs to the next generations. Even if we scream out in pain, they’ll make sure no one can Hear us. They don’t realize that the system is crumbling, but for some reason, only a select few can Smell that rust the shackles have. So they make sure that they break their nose while getting rid of the Smell. Then I had another revelation. They cover all of the senses by giving you a Taste of freedom.

My walls broke down. All I saw was Black.

Like those before me, I had inherited this life, along with these revelations.

I had entered the Black Reality.