by Kellen Gaither
Imagine this: a man, a businessman, in the business of finance, dressed in a navy-blue suit with his hair freshly touched up and his shoes freshly polished. The Rolex on his wrist shimmers as he flicks his arm up to tell the time. It is obvious that he is put together and well-to-do. He speaks with pristine pronunciation and even if no one fully understands the big, intelligent words flowing from his lips, no one wants him to stop talking. His smile is as white and as straight as America. He goes home to a four-bedroom home, a loving wife, and a bright child. Dinner is prepared by his personal chef and his home is kept in tip-top shape by his maids. Now imagine this: a man, a businessman, in the business of weed. Grey sweatpants and an old T-shirt adorn him with a snapback to cover his messy hair. The watch on his wrist isn’t a Rolex but his main chick got it for him, so he wears it hesitantly. He’s not well put together, and his finances could be better. His words mostly consist of slang, mumbled and unclear, but that doesn’t stop him from talking. He never got braces to fix his teeth and figured that a grown man walking around with braces wouldn’t sit right with the ladies. He goes home to a shabby apartment that has stains on the wall and dishes in the sink. His main chick comes out with his baby on her hip, yelling at him about who he was cheating on her with. Now, my final question to you is: What race was each man?
Kellen Gaither – 2021 Featured Poet – is a junior from Cincinnati, Ohio. She is a psychology major with a minor in gender, sexuality, and women’s studies who is also working on her prerequisites for occupational therapy. Beautiful Black Boy, Cantu Bantu, The Hood Isn’t Even Ours Anymore, I Can Feel It, Not Allowed to Hurt, The Talk