Josephine Baker

Oh aunt Jemima,
How you struggled.
How you struggled
to make a perfect world
From the perch the white man
Gave you.

The perch of someone else’s world,
Someone else’s values.
Who you took to the air,
They brought out the stones,
And you fell.

How I did pity you,
Slumped on your doorstep,
Children scattered by the wind.
But your downfall
Was inevitable.

You asked for concessions;
But you set no conditions.
Oh aunt Jemima,
How I love you.
But you failed yourself.


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