My skin is dark
I am not taken seriously.
I am considered inferior
I am considered as nothing.
To them, I don’t exist,
I am only judged
By the colour of my skin
For I am black
And to white people
I am different.
I am treated like an animal
Whipped, and underfed.
I wear rags
I am not educated
I am a slave
And nothing else.
Why bother to dream
When I already know
I will never escape?
There is no life waiting for me
Out there.
It would be even worse,
For I would have to steal,
I could be arrested,
And my life would end there.
So I am just grateful
That they have let me live,
This is my life,
I know nothing else.
I am used to being mistreated,
Not that I consider it fair,
But I obey, never contest.
If I have been punished,
Very well, I will listen.
If I need to stay up all night,
Very well, I will listen;
This is my life
I know nothing else.
How could I live differently,
When all people like me
Are slaves?
I have seen black people die
Being whipped to death
For nothing else
Than stealing bread.
But what most fills my heart with hate
Is seeing white people do
Exactly the same thing
And simply being shouted at.
But I am used to it,
White people care about me
Only to make me work
While they sit and relax.
They don’t do anything,
No cooking, no cleaning,
Because I am the one to whom
They assign all of these tasks.
So everyday, I wake up early,
Only to find a day of work,
No rest, no money,
No proper food, no good clothes,
Because I am black.
But slowly, I started to hope,
Everyday, there were revolts,
That gradually developed
Into fights for freedom
And abolition of slavery.
I became one of these people,
And soon, we were free.
We had no rights, we earned no money,
But we were not slaves anymore.
And then, it began;
We had a few rights,
We could get payed a little,
We could have a home
Belonging to us, only us.
Who cared if it was made of dirt and hay?
Who cared if people did not pay?
We had rights,
We were not slaves, we had a home.
We were happy, we were grateful
And we were free.