TROPHY

You kill us! 

What is your purpose? 

You cannot destroy our blackness. 

We will always be more than the selected victims you hang on your game room wall. Are we your ultimate trophy, do you have a secret room you show your hunting buddies? 

Does this room have black heads lining the walls? 

What is your point system, do you get more points based on the victims’ profession? Would a doctor garner you one hundred points, a teacher seventy-five points? Perhaps I have the values backward. 

Would a child with a bright future give you more points? 

Do think silencing them before we hear their youthful voice of protest might earn a bonus. 

Are your walls adorned with just the heads, or do you keep symbolic trophies also? Testicles perhaps, to symbolize castration, maybe a foot to stop the forward progress you fear. 

Do you collect eyes and ears so we do not hear so we cannot see the stride being made in Black America? 

How old were you when your parents told you playing with black children was no longer allowed? 

At what age did your father walk you into his hidden trophy room, with pride, and show you his collection. 

Did you recoil in disgust and fear when you saw your black friends’ head hanging there? 

Your father pointed to a blank wall and told you it was your space to carry on the tradition. 

Were you mortified, or did you feel a primal surge building within at the thought and thrill of the hunt? 

At that moment, you either stand with humanity, or you became the great white hunter. 

Did you look at your friends head, eyes stretched open, mouth sewn shut. 

Was that a motivator to kill or to run, perhaps you felt there was no choice. 

Was the thought of disappointing your father was stronger than doing the right thing? 

We all hang on somebody’s wall. 

The question is whether we stand in front of a photographer or a cop with a 9mm gun!

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