I thought the days when I had to worry about muzzles and whips were gone. I thought the times when I had to be given up for my color is history. How naive I am not to know that goree and manacles still bond my brothers and sisters as one. These brutal lands still pay a penny for our dull colors. My heart is heavy, my song is slow, the rhythm of my heart dances faster than the rhythm of my song. The CNN and the BBC do not hold us as the major headlines just because we are the cappuccino flavored tea but the overly white cream makes it to the headlines in their littlest disasters. We have fought this war before, we were weak, primitive and threw our values to the dogs, but now our struggles and knowledge renovated, our minds refurbished, we must fight for our brothers. We will not sit and let the epidemic eat up every land we represent. Not now, not ever. I am black, I am African, I am no machine, I am no commodity.