the professor

[creativesoul]

he had scratched his way to the top
dreesed like a young man that had once been very poor
he spoke about the atrocities that had occured for many years
that were still occuring here in America
he was a lighter skined black man,
he felt guilty that he had had more privledge than his darker brothers and sisters
he also had become an abuser
all the things that had been done to him
he now knew how to do them with his little piece of power
at the university
he had a collection of aunt jemima dolls and lil black sambo s in his office
he did not know what a learning disability was
and he was sure that no white woman was going to get anything speacil from him
no circular thinking would edge it s way into his linear very male world
it was black
or it was white
he likes all the girls getting emotional about what happened to thier ancestors
it was one of the things that touched him
he carried all the hand outs and the picture he held of himself inhis mind to every class he taught
along with a whip that was in his mind
the scars were on his back
he felt them burning
you have not got an idea of what emmet til felt like
he says
he makes sweeping genralizations
about what you understand about abuse, racisim and ancestral genocide
i watched
i thought to myself
he is not going to get me to leave this class
no matter what
no matter ho ugly
there is a vein that hurts in my left temple
in his class due to anger
i can feel his anger
i cannot stop myself from feeling
i do not want to
thre are atrocities occuring every day
islam, hindus, africa has milatary coos every day
there is conflict every where
that is why for gradate school
i intend to do
conflict resolution
because
i cannot do anything about what has past
i can only do something about today
now

[stilltrucking]

I like this one a lot. It takes me back to my last semester in college and the professor who brought by twelve-year career as a sophomore to an end.