we wanted to keep our names. we wanted to pretend

they weren’t on auction, that they were worth

more than a silent auction.

we wanted to be saved. we waited

since Till for a savior -

but we waited too long.

and we learned too late

that we had to save ourselves - we had to

protect our names - our justice -

their promise.

I was scarcely six the first time I heard

the rules, when I learned -

the protection wasn’t

to protect us - that we were the

guiltless gangsters, crimeless criminals

the rules came quick, but I had to

keep up, to keep my name.

number one, never travel alone.

my momma always told me

they wouldn’t commit crime with witness,

and she advised that I merge with sunlight,

because they depended on the cover

of the night to get away with their crime.

god forbid I ever had to meet one,

my momma prayed I’d never have to meet one,

but if god didn’t hear her pleas over her cries -

number two, keep your hands where they can see them.

my daddy always told me

that my empty back pocket hid a

loaded handgun - and I knew better than to reach for it.

he preached that the prevention that was

my momma’s prayer wasn’t enough, but my momma

always believed that an ounce of prevention

was worth a pound of cure, so she warned me.

number three, avoid them at all costs.

that’s right, my momma told me

to be on my best behavior.

she told me not to give them

a fraction of a fragment

of a reason to see me.

but my daddy argued

that my skin was enough -

that was the only excuse

that Zimmerman had, and

the only one that he needed.

my daddy had to be sure that I knew

number four, always move slowly, and announce your movements.

my daddy showed me his scar

from the time he moved too fast,

the long line on his left shoulder.

and he reminded me, that I was a black woman -

and that they could do whatever they wanted to me -

he invoked fear into me - he promised me

had I met the wrong one,

I wouldn’t be as lucky

as Trayvon, my name wouldn’t

live after me.

i’d be another dark body without name -

i’d be but another funeral, where everybody sang;

god bless america.