Wednesday, April 11, 2018

Poem for @ThreeTBG Three Token Brown Girls #feminism #racism #activism #antifa #3tokenbrowngirls


Imagine dear reader, you create a Facebook page to educate and raise awareness of issues like white supremacy and racism. You and your page are relentlessly trolled by neo nazis. You report their vile comments. You are told by FB "these do not contravene community standards."

You post the word "white" - you are banned not once, not twice but more than 4 times in a row, and the page unpublished. Because as a Person of Colour you used the word "white" in a comment and Facebook decides it's racist. 
Even though you used it in reply to someone calling you every vile thing, and threatening you.

As a white person, I can write "white supremacy" over and over and over again and have done so and not been so much as gently chastised generally. 
But the amazing women - women of colour - behind @ThreeTBG  /  Three Token Brown Girls - have put up with this unending racist response for months now.

They are hoping to move to a safe and non racist space, and continue their valuable work, so if you want to support this follow the BLOG and Support the PODCAST 

These women do amazing work, both in amplifying marginalized voices and in educating white allies into doing better, understanding more. It's thankless work, and often met with vicious defensiveness even from those who claim to be allies. But they persevere. 


On the occasion of Sammie Lewis’ latest banning from Facebook for fighting White Supremacy
And also dedicated to Chiany Dri and Erica Morales – the Three Token Brown Girls


When I paint Erica
I will paint her, fist raised,
Her eyes seeking the heavens 
Her muscles flexed.
When I see her, I will say -
Sister, you are my warrior woman
You are my spear.

When I listen to Chiany, I will record
Her words like pearls, I will accept my role in
This picture, these cast before me,
I privileged to listen.
Sister, I will whisper, you are my teacher
You are my pen, the paper and the ink.

When I follow Sammie, it will be loops and ellipses
I will glimpse her far ahead and run to catch up
But I am gladdened even by the hope of being
Somewhere she has already broken path.
Sammie, I will call after her, throwing my words to the wind
You are my machete, my navigator.

And Sammie is busy, dodging the rocks they throw
Climbing the mountains they throw up
Fording the rivers of their hate
But Sammie will still turn and smiling,
Reach back her hand to me,  
And say
“Run faster, Sister, you’re getting there.”

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