Uncivilhttps://barrenmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/C80C35F3-990C-4D86-8D8C-09A04546A108.jpeg16562208Prince A. BushPrince A. Bushhttps://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/515dc8a2f20c61ce62a863532761c5e8?s=96&d=mm&r=g
I don’t know who my great-great-grand- mother was, but I know she would tell me to stop crying, don’t run away, respect what the devil says, reciting Bible parables of masters and slaves. She’d have my last name, which is a last name that means uncivil, primitive, African. Yes, this is all I know when I’m touching on where I came from. When I look at the dead Auschwitz, alive White House, I see the end of a process, names switched senseless, chambered rounds, bullets in a slave’s back, death camps curved like the upwards vogue of a devil, then downward—but upward, then yes, we heard you, here’s how that anti-semitic song isn’t, here’s how the lynch-loving woman meant it.