Why Don’t People March for Black Women? This Woman Explains What We’re Missing

December 2, 2015 / Porsha Olayiwola

(Content Warning: Racism, misogynoir, violence)

“Last night, no one showed up to march for Rekia Boyd.”

Have you noticed that conversations about police brutality and other forms of violence against black people tend to focus on men and boys? Those men and boys are certainly worth fighting for – but when women like Rekia Boyd are killed by police and people don’t show up to rally for her, something’s wrong.

In this moving slam poem, Porsha Olayiwola explores the injustice of violence against black women and girls – and the apathy towards their pain.

Porsha holds the 2014 Individual World Slam title, and this powerful poem shows exactly why she’s the champion – and why we must show our outrage for black women victims, and #SayHerName.

With Love,
The Editors at Everyday Feminism

Click for the Transcript

Last night, no one showed up to march for Rekia Boyd.

Rekia was shot dead in the head by cops in Chicago on Monday.

A Cook County judge acquitted police of killing Rekia

Dante Servin, charged of manslaughter, went jailbird free.

Rekia Boyd was a 22-year-old unarmed black woman living on the south side of Chicago,

and last night, no one showed up to march at her rally.

I guess all the protesters got tied up.

I guess all the black folks were busy making signs saying, “Stop killing our black boys.”

I guess no one hears the howling of black girl ghost in the nighttime.

We stay unheard. Blotted out. Buried. Dead.

Black girls receive tombstones too soon, and never any flowers to dress the grave,

so we fight alone.

They will tell you the woes of a black man who got beat by police in the street

Beat by the man at work

Beat by the system at the institution

But never of a black woman he took his frustration out on

Never of the black girl he stretched into a casket

They will tell you of the brown boys who get pushed from school through pipeline to prison,

but never of the girls who feel the sales

Never of the orange jumpsuits they camouflage into

200 black girls go missing in Nigeria and America puts out a hashtag instead of a search party

No one ever causes a riot,

the first black first lady is being called the first ape on all of the media outlets and no one is outraged

There ain’t no boycott or nothing.

Down the street a man did a hate speech to a black butch woman and someone gave it a 10

Someone said it was freedom

Poets are still over there cheering

I guess queer black woman ain’t black enough

I guess the movement ain’t meant to be a crossroad

I guess we are here for play, for make-believe, pretend

Poof! How magic trick missing must I become?

How tight does my noose have to ring?

How long does my body need to deteriorate before anyone can smell it rot?

If a black boy gets shot by the cops, isn’t that a tragedy?

Ain’t it the blues?

Isn’t it a misfortune if a black girl gets killed by police and the killer goes free?

Does anyone notice?

Do you still call it a lynching?

Is her rally just a rehearsal?

Ain’t that why no one ever shows up?

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Black, poet, dyke-goddess, hip-hop feminist, womanist, friend, Porsha Olayiwola is a performance artist who believes in pixie dust and second chances. A resident of Boston, by way of Chicago, Porsha O is the reigning Individual World Poetry Slam Champion. Her intention is to speak, love, praise, and maintain a cypher that is undocumented, uncontrollable and just plain ole dope. Check her out on Facebook page here.

Video courtesy of Button Poetry. For more amazing spoken word performances, check them out on YouTube and Facebook.