To the judge,
I've been charged with prostitution and am asking you not to convict me. I need you to help me. I cannot say that I am innocent of the charge, but I can say beyond a shred of doubt that this society is guilty of the soul murder of black women.
I came up north after my father was lynched. He was the breadwinner of our already very poor family, and I couldn't bear to see my mother struggle to keep me and my siblings all fed anymore. Like many other Black people right now, I migrated here from the south in search of work, shelter, safety, security, the warmth of other suns, a new life.
I honestly did not know that the house I sought refuge in after a perilous journey was a brothel. But by that point they already had me and my body. I thought about running away and finding work elsewhere, but what would you do if you had no other home? No other source of food? No family or governmental support to lean on? And even if I was able to find a job as a domestic, who would protect me from the sexual advances of the man of the house? And his wife's misplaced scorn?
I do not find what I do empowering nor shameful. The real issue at hand however is that this society leaves Black women little other choice.
Sincerely,
Me
No comments:
Post a Comment