SpokenWord

Politickin’

Over there
If you’re brown, you get the crown
For a limited time only, and subject to availability
Poster child for poverty
Stand there and look cute
With your big, round, tear filled eyes and
Your own personal fly
Placed oh so carefully on the corner of your mouth

They’re not interested in your education
Not interested in your degrees
In your languages or worldly ideas
‘Cause see
It’s much more interesting to hear your struggle
Much more exotic to picture you rescued from the rubble
War-torn and broken
Saved by the “Benevolent Ones” and brought to the land of bread and butter

Politickin’

So you come home
You come home and you wait to be embraced by your own
Wait to have your self-worth finally set in stone

Over here
White ain’t right
But your shade, it’s gotta be just right
And your family’s connections gotta be tight
‘Cause in WhoVille
It’s all about who you know
That cash crop you grow
And the hot air you blow

And they’re not interested
Not interested in your education
Not interested in your degrees
In your languages or worldly ideas
‘Cause see
It’s much more interesting to watch you struggle
Like crabs in a barrel, they snap at your feet
Tugging and pulling until they’re basking in the sick glow of your defeat

Over there
You’re a party favor
You represent jungles and safaris
Flying carpets and veiled beauties
Perfect for show and tell, you’re flaunted by all
‘Til the Twins fall
And then it’s not long before you cease to be exotic
Branded as a fanatic
And detested by the public

Politickin’

So you come home
You come home and you wait for them to take you in their arms
Wait for them to erase the scars

But

Over here you’re branded again
This time a slave
To the imperialist sahyouni (Zionist) wave

A sell-out

That is, until you’re needed
For your perfect accent
So those ignorant bastards
Can avoid disasters
Improve their image
Using your welcoming visage
And suddenly bit Amreeka (American Girl) is no longer khawajiyya (foreigner)
No longer fadee7a (a source of shame)
But “bittana! Sudaniya aseela!” (our daughter! A real Sudanese!)

So over there you’re a zealot
And over here you’re a sell-out
And though you’re screamin’ and kickin’
You know you’re stuck
In that wicked game of politickin’

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