To certain Intellectuals

“You are no friend of mine. For i am poor, Black, Ignorant and slow, Not your kind. You yourself, have told me so. No friend of mine.”- the Great Langston Hughes.  This poem struck volumes to me; especially as a man, who prides himself on the academia he is pursuing and will continue to pursue. We members of the intelligentsia hold up in our ivory towers, discussing complex ideas, purposefully holding fast to the over complex language to feed our superiority complexes. It’s sickening. Then finally when confronted with questions we sneer and turn our noses because the scent of the poor; our class folk only separated by a piece of paper bought by privilege, reminds us of what we truly are and what we abhor. Our education was not meant to be a mask or our gateway ticket that allows us to dance on the backs of people who lifted us up. However, all is not lost my more learned comrades. We are no greater than those who the system purposefully barred from gaining higher formal education. However, we speak the coded language of the oppressor, we are versed in their craft. It is our turn to aid those who do not speak this language, those who do not know how to wield the tools at their disposal. We must give back to those whose hands upheld your climb to greatness. 

Born in the most horrid of situations yet we rise

Kayne Rivers