JOEL WORFORD
No White People were Harmed in the Making of this Nigga
I wear it like a birthmark
I wear it like a gravestone
I wear it like my father’s watch
(which in this spirit, he never stole)
I wear it like my mother’s smile—
That phrase that stands as the roof of this house
I wear it like an MVP
A job, a raise, my college degree.
Like cocoa butter in the hot fucking sun.
(affirmative action can’t braid this hair)
I wear these words like the freckles on my cheek
(that were my mother’s, and her mother’s before)
I wear these words like the rhythm of my tongue
(from songs from slaves from captives from kings)
I wear these words like my ancestors past
(These words, not borrowed, but claimed from defeat)
I wear these words like the warning from their mouth
(I wear these words like white pride wears its skin)
My wings weren’t built upon the strength of feathers, plucked
(I wear these words like the boots upon my back)
Stand not upon the shoulders of some giant that was slain—
(I wear these words like the blood upon pale feet)
Don’t call the authorities if you see me with a smile
I did not steal it from a white person’s face
No White People were Harmed in the Making of this Nigga
My claim: this statement, for the credit of my life
Joel Worford (he/him) is a writer and musician from Richmond, Virginia. His work appears/is forthcoming in trampset, Chestnut Review, The Laurel Review and more. Joel received a Best of the Net nomination in 2019 for his short story “The Warning Sign,” as well as a Pushcart nomination in 2021. He serves as Fiction Editor at K’in Literary Journal.