Whoever said we all bleed the same is a liar.
How can you compare the blood of those who have spent their lives in
Towers made of ivory with those who have spent their lives in
Rooms without windows?
Do the humans that were whipped remorselessly and cried blood
Over the loss of their identity, their freedom and their humanity
Share the same blood as the ones who enslaved them?
You tell me.
Can you look into the eyes of the oppressed and
Tell them that your blood and their blood are the same?
Beauty is in the eye of the oppressor,
No one else is afforded the opportunity to behold.
It’s easy to say we all bleed the same when your blood is only shed
In playgrounds after rough but friendly encounters.
It’s easy to say we all bleed the same when your blood is only shed
Chopping organic vegetables on marble and oak worktops.
It’s easy to say we all bleed the same when you only see one shade of blood;
A shade that is untainted by the wickedness of the world.
A shade that still has its sheen and its lustre.
What happens when you have been exposed to different shades of blood?
Shades that make the dark side of the moon look like Heaven.
Shades that make a mockery out of those who dare to fix their eyes upon it.
Shades that are incomprehensible to those who do not live in the belly of the beast.
Shades that can only be found on the bottom of the boot, not in the body of those
That wear the boot.
So, when you tell me that we all bleed the same,
I will simply assume that you’re either a liar or
An oppressor. You decide.
Andrew Ogun is a musician, poet, creative director and activist from Newport, currently living in Cardiff. He is the main organiser for BLM Gwent and is also the Agent for Change at the Arts Council of Wales. His work is centred on identity and capturing the tensions of the human experience, dealing with themes such as race, masculinity and place/space.
@ogun_official | @ogunofficial