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The politics of Prejudice

I turn to the wall in my bedroom. It is exactly 1:00 a.m. on the clock. I am deep within my head - a prisoner of my contemplation[s]. I hear the vibrations of the fan's blades, the cacophonous sounds of mosquitoes grazing pass my earlobes. Dogs bark in the distance. The voices in my head bellow far and above those sounds. Trapped inside my head, they seek freedom! Justice! Understanding! The politics of prejudice had long silenced these voices.

I hear in my head the weeping of this gyaal (woman of poor moral standing). She has been been silenced because she is of questionable character. Raped by those who are her accusers. She cannot come forward. Oh no she can't! She dare not!For she deserved what she got. She must have wanted it... She is a horny slut! a nymphomaniac! Dressed the way she was, she was begging for it...The innocent man was going along his own business when her batty rider and midriff-exposing-blouse and fishnet stalkings and stilletos held him by his collar and demanded that he fucks her without her permission. With busted lips and bloody nose she remains silent because if she speaks, she is the one placed on trial before those who had already pronounced her morally guilty. It is not injustice; it is simply the politics of prejudice...

I hear the wailing of that dutty bway (male miscreant) locked away in General Penitentiary. Ole Tief him is (He is a kleptomaniac)!! Fifteen years in prison. His mother worked in the kitchen of the Have-it-alls. And their toilets. And their laundry rooms for the entire day - with no breaks and no meal and she STILL got below minimum wage but kept going because she had 6 hungry mouths to feed. And though many days she forced herself to return, she reasoned that a goat head a day was better than a cow head once a week. Seeing his mother suffer and being the eldest of his siblings, he decided to take on manhood and provide for his family. He got 15 years for cultivating and selling ganja. He couldn't afford a lawyer to get him off and that blasted judge decided to make an example of him even though he had no previous record. "Him is a dutty bway! Teach dat ole tief a lesson!" So he spends the best of his years behind bars of iron... It is not injustice; it is simply the politics of prejudice...

"You black bitch!!!" "Those are the words he will always say to me," She lamented. " I remember mixing bleach, peroxide and all sorts of toilet bowl cleaners to scrub off my black epidermis with that scotch brite pad over there. I was black and black is not pretty. I wanted to be pretty for him. You see, he is a Jamaican White and I was his black mistress... well, more like his "sextress" but... I guess having him in my bed and all up inside my cunt meant that I had entered into his world or maybe he into mine... That was only a wish though because deep inside I knew that for as long as I was trapped in this black body, I will NEVER be good enough. I'm a browning now!" She smiles, pauses for a while as said," you know he never once said sorry?" Moralists call her a bad fifteen year old teleiophile. Her exploitation and collective redicule is not injustice; it is simply the politics of prejudice.

I hear the chants over in the bobo camp of Bull Bay... they are not in a celebratory mood. They are disillusioned! Wondering why they are targeted. Why their fields cut down? Why in a land, whose constitution embraces religious freedoms, they are being singled out and targeted by 'raas' babylon (the police), having their person patted down and searched for weed and weapon? Is it the privileged position that comes with being Rastafari? Fi dem religion av no freedom iina dis ya land (Their religion has no freedom in this land). They are treated as non-persons - Sub-humans. Their victimisation is supported by state and church in the name of maintaining it Christian nation status... This is the politics of prejudice...

That little Christian girl in my head sits quietly in the corner. I noticed her because everyone else has stopped speaking. "Do you have anything you wish to say," I inquired. "What's your story?"... There's silence and then she raises her head so that i can see her swollen eyes; red from the silent tears she cried. Dark circles formed around them telling the tales of many sleepless nights. She ran away from home. She loves God but... she also loves Peta-Gaye. She does not wish to have to choose one above the other. She gets up and pulls up her skirt just up to her hips. She reveals welted, bloody legs. "My pastor-father did this when I told him I liked girls. He said he'd rather me become an unwed teenage mother than see any daughter of his with a female lover." "At least I'll be satisfied that you went the natural way of taking a dick..." He said. "...Than to know that you defy God's natural order and go about sucking another woman's pussy." The tears welled up in her eyes as she finished, "He did not even ask for me when I called home tonight. He told Mom to tell me that I should not call back his house because I no longer have parents who live there." This certainly is not about justice and righteousness it is simply about the politics of prejudice.

I scanned the room again and thought to myself. All their stories are so different yet so connected. Their voices came together to make a united call against oppression. You see, all oppression is connected. For oppression denies the humanity and dignity of the oppressed in all instances. As we continue to aid and abet the politics of prejudice to preserve our morality, we simultaneously deny others their humanity. Like cannibals, we swallow up those against whom we hold particular prejudices, reducing them to faeces. I cannot think of anything more immoral!

I hear the vibrations of the fan's blades again; the cacophonous sounds of mosquitoes grazing pass my earlobes. I guess the dogs have gone to bed. The voices in my head have been soothed; they have found expression. It is now 2:47 a.m. Sleep beckons me to come hither. That makes sense... I have church in just about six hours. Rest well voices! Rest well!


  1. Albert R. WilliamsJuly 10, 2011 at 4:10 AM

    wow, wow, wow, mi tell u that u have a gift enuh, surely this could not come from a "regular" person. I love this DM and I seriously think it needs to be shared to spark discussion.

  2. Marcus those voices had more to say, there were more in that room and we need to give them a voice... The Micah mandate demands that we give them a voice

  3. Replies
    1. WOW>> thanks for reading. I cannot believe that I wrote this 4 years ago, though. still fresh as I felt it that morning


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