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Not their fault | Mr. Prodg: New Chapter!

Not their fault

Not their fault
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Before you read this piece, just know that I ain’t better than anyone nor do I think that I am better.  I am just a lad who is constantly asking questions and trying to make sense of the things we say and do.  I can relate to this piece to a certain degree and I know a lot of of my peoples who are in this same situation.

We’re still playing dominoes and we’re talking and all of a sudden these two chicks came by the crib to see one of our dudes.  A few other chicks who was already at the spot all of a sudden got so heated and uttered these “Look as miss thang. I can’t stand these fast tail little bitches out here.”

I hear this a lot, a lot a lot. A lot of people look at young Black girls and write them off as whores destined to have a slew of kids and left to raise them single because they sought love in the wrong type of men. It’s hardly any optimism, instead pessimism. I ask myself sometimes, where is the hope? If we can elect an African American president in to office why can’t we advocate to save our young Black women.

Who’s to blame, you know? If a black girl comes from a broken home where the mother has mentally checked out and the father is long gone can you blame her for lack of direction? It’s babies raising babies. Single mothers are really young but riddled with responsibilities that stem from their mistakes but are they to blame? Aren’t they the product of this continuous cycle as well? Do we blame the fathers that left after the consummation? But aren’t they victims as well? Aren’t they the product of a system of racism i.e. the ghetto where the hopes are low and the nurturing is non-existent?

Can we blame racism?  To a certain degree, I believe we can and should.  Jim Crow is over but racism is still as strong and death gripping in 2011 as it was in 1965 but now white people have done a better job at masking it.

It takes a village to raise a child. Black people have to fight against oppression and snatch our babies up off the street. Tell them you love them, tell them they’re capable, tell them they’re worthy. My heart goes out to young Black girls; it seems everyone is quick to criticize but when it’s time for reformation I see hardly a soul lending a hand.

I’m not better, my sisters aren’t any better than these young girls…we were just fortunate.

It’s not their fault…it’s not their fault

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