"The Men," A Post for Nigeria

Sister Nigeria,
growing your economy,
flaunting your
young entrepreneurs
and innovators
like the folds of a
grand gown
for the world to see...

Your wealth
has gotten
the attention of men
who
want to
extort it
again.

But
it is
not the
many men
from without
that you must fear.

It is the
men from within.

The men who
through their
radical religious beliefs
are
abducting your
young daughters and
ripping away their
presents and futures
by severing ties with
female elders
and
enacting
forced
marriages.

The men who
unchecked
by a
Ministry of Agriculture
roam
the fields of
private
properties,
murdering residents
in the name of
cultivating crops and
domesticating
animals.

Men who
use the
country's coffers
to buy
second and third and fourth wives
while
men with
one wife and
many mouths to feed
struggle to
bring up food
from the hard, hot dust.

Men who
join militias
to perform
lynchings
for their friends.

Men who
use their
political and religious statures
to convince
the
working poor
that
the door to prosperity
is through
hero worship...

My Sister,
Nigeria,
you must not fear so much
the hands of the
foreign man.

It is your brother,
your father,
the son that you raised
that is
reaching up under your skirts
to circumcise you.

Because he is smiling like he always did
and he looks like you,
I know
you are tempted
to believe that
he is family
and he will
come around.

But it is not true Sister.
It is not true.

Do you not see his arm?
Do you not see him standing there,
propped up under you to
steal your pleasures?

If he says to you
I am not your father,
I am not your brother,
I am not your son,
does that change the fact
that he is?

If he says to you
it is the fault of the colonizer
it is the fault of the first world
it is the fault of the lazy youth,
does it change the fact
that he holds the knife?

What are you doing,
my Sister,
turning and turning
like a pre-teen
at a prom?

Do not stand there
held hostage by the
black-face smile
of your persecutors,
your leaders,
your preachers,
your self-proclaimed saviors.

Settle down your gown
and lock your thighs.

Remember your labors.

Humble your men.

-T. D. James-Moss