The Poor Black Kid's Club

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by ZJStewart

by ZJStewart

*Originally preformed by 2 people*

Welcome to The Poor Black Kid's Club. Founded in Africa during the 1400s.
We can trace our roots or lack thereof for centuries.
As you turn to the first page of the Handbook. You can see the founding family:
Forgotten slaves abandoned by sanity
Stolen, Beaten, and Raped into obscurity.
Creators of situational creativity.
Textbooks will call us survivalist entrepreneurs
(If we get mentioned at all in a good light)
But we just call it hustlin

The Poor Black Kids Club
Cheap food, more chub
Hard to get healthy, but at least we got some
Our mamas work hard,
two jobs, no fun
Government checks never get shit done.

Fun fact: If you're poor, make sure you're poor enough. If your mama got two or more jobs because she's trying to provide, please, make sure she only lists ONE on the application for food stamps-- preferably the one that pays less.
Trust me, it matters.

I know it. Cause when you livin in the dead of Michigan winter.
With no heatin, coolin, or plumbing neither
Money get air-tight but you need a breather
Got a 15 year old daughter
And the government only give you 16 dollars a month to feed her.
Cause you make too much
Work too hard but
It's never enough
Mama came to my room saying "I know things are hard right now. But you gotta just trust, Things'll get better. Better for us."
But they never really do
We just get a different type of struggle
With a day that is new. Comes a new problem too
That always ends up causing trouble for you.
Like when 13 years in a house go by
When the walls break down and you ask why?
Mama can't answer. But late at night you can hear her cry.
3 years later. You start over. In the land of milk and money.
We ain't in Kansas no mo
And problems comes back only colder though.
You lose power. The little girl grew older
She's a big girl now. She gotta sacrifice, too.
No time to be selfish. Get a job. Pay for food.
Prom dresses and vacations.
Stop dreaming girl. Time is a wastin
You can't fail her now girl..
My mom is counting on me. I gotta step up show her she's not a mess up.
She did her best for me. I know she thinks she's failing me but honestly.
It's time for her to give the reins to me.
And show her what a good job she did raising me.

The Formation.
Of a new sector of The PBKC usually is a mismatched group of friends and play cousins.
Often times. You share stories of the Matriarchies that conceived y'all.
Women often involuntarily choose sperm donors over dedicated husbands and fathers
Together.
Us, results. Say the oath. That wise mothers have chanted for generations
"I'm your mother and your father too."
"You don't have a good dad,
so let the Father Christ father you"
Tried to give some type of guidance
But religion was not the truth
At least not the solution
Indeed, sparked confusion
Just like the reason Dad left
Took care of his other family
Again, losing my respect
To remain sitting here broke
and broken

The Poor Black Kids Club
No money, no power
Got a hunger to hustle
Getting greater each hour
Trying harder and harder
There are too many levels
Unless we win the lotto
Then it's almost game over

Being a poor black kid is sometimes, most of the time, all the time
apologizing for your existence that the world rejects anyway
Being a burden when you're just trying to be happy
Wanting to partake in the activities of your peers and enjoy without tears
Without sadness
Without worrying
About your mother's worrying
There's no time for worrying
Only time to make money, we're losing time to make money
Even as I stand here, right now
Laughing and smiling in the foreign suburbs that is not my home
Secretly resenting the irony of paper owning me rather me owning it
Dictating the suffering of me and my blood
My hood is me and my mama cuz our bodies can never stay in one place
We never could stay in one place
Evictions, more friction, more economic restrictions
It's twisted

Tupac said he was a rose that grew from the concrete
But I
I can't say the same for myself
Cuz when have we ever stayed in the cement long enough for it to solidify
Am I a bee or a butterfly?
How do I know if I can even fly yet, are we high yet?
Should I say goodbye, am I set?
How many say goodbye cuz their high is too much for them
I never wanted to use drugs, in fact I genuinely despise them
but believe me, I've considered and planned to sell them more than any young kid should ever have to
I love you so much, Mama
I would never want to hurt you, but I would gladly take the risk that comes with selling
Than have you suffer like no other
Cuz I'd rather be a dealer, than you feel just like a failure
Cuz you're not
You're a beautiful parent
You always try your best even when it's not apparent
I assure you
I love you and respect you
Money don't make us but it really can shape you

Although we may joke. Think we not taking it serious.
Trust. We taking it serious.
We have a tendency to make the bad good and the good better.
We are magic.

You know they ask why black people so loud, always laughing at something, always dancing to something (we dance to everything)
But just like this poem, we can never stay happy and excited for too long
Our lives infused with disadvantages
We prove in this life we can manage and
Adapt to any environment, any situation
We are found in so many nations.i
Thanks to colonization
Down

These few experiences are just a couple drops
in the sea of melanated poverty.
See, to join this club, you must accept your fast growth
The jump from child to adult comes early, no in between
Also, we forgot one thing: you simply cannot join this club at any given time
She and I? We were born into it.

We suffered through it. We cried.
We've wished we died.
We've tried and tried and tried.
At the end the day. The Poor Black Kids Club do what black people do
And survive.