George Floyd’s death
THE EDITOR, Madam:
THIS POEM was written for my literature class during this year’s Black History Month at the Manchester Community College. I conducted a study on the great Jamaica Kincaid, only to realise that we have had similar experiences coming from the Caribbean into a strange and unjust land. Racism is a concept I just can’t understand. Shouldn’t we be judged by the content of our character only? As we witness the atrocity of George Floyd’s death, I have only one thing to say as an immigrant.
From the Caribbean they come with excitement. Expecting to hear, feel, touch and taste the wonders of that which they hear about and see on TV.
They say “USA, here we come!!!” In hopes of escaping from the sliding dollars of one’s country.
To seek better opportunities is their aim, but racism and colonialism becomes their new game.
You see whites on TV and swear that you’re their equal, but in fact the opposite is true.
In Jamaica Kincaid’s era, she might not have had televisions to see the wonders of this great nation, but I’m sure she heard great things about America. America, the land of opportunities, but also the land of prejudice.
Written in honour of Jamaica Kincaid and the late George Floyd.