How to talk to me? Why do you seem so puzzled
Could my color be all you see?
Does my image have you confused
A misunderstanding of how to talk to me.
I want to ask you how I want to ask you why?
But if I ask you, you’ll get defensive
And that means you’ll never try.
So I will not complain
I’ll just give you more information.
Of how to talk to me when you see me
And with no discrimination.
You can speak to me hello
When you walk away goodbye.
You don’t have to hold the door for me
But you should ask yourself why?

You don’t have to look away
Or look down at your feet.
You can give a simple nod
That’s a good way to acknowledge me.
What do you think when it comes to me
Could it be acceptance maybe?
That you know someone who knows someone that understands someone like me.
You don’t have to excuse yourself from being human
And ask me what I do for a living.
Then suddenly give yourself a compliment
Then say, “Oh he must be brilliant.”
To act like you’re the judge the OK from you was given.

He got to be one of the few black men
But how can I still crush his feelings.
Stop telling us black men
About black friend you had as a boy.
Cause when you tell someone like me about that
It seems like he was your toy.
So many questions comes to mind
So many things you did not say.
About the black friend you once had as kid
Did you honestly throw him away?

Stop telling me that your color blind
Denying my culture of what you don’t see.
You deny the color of the ground you walk upon
My color is the best thing about me.
When you look at yourself in the mirror, it’s not the real you that you see.
But if you are familiar with that person in the mirror
Why not ask them how to talk to me?
If you believe the one in the mirror
And everything they say is true.
You would clearly learn and understand
That the answer starts with you.

They told how they throw rock,
Hurt your feelings and cursed your name.
They told me they spit on you,
Trying to find someone to blame.
Did they tell you they robbed and took my money,
Laughing as such?
Did they tell you I forgave them?
Was the money really enough?
I’m sure they told you a lie —
That’s truly up to you.
But if you ask me for my opinion,
I have to wonder, who ya listening to?

They paint pictures with crooked lines,
Twisting moments, distorting time.
But truth don’t need a fancy suit —
It stands alone, bare and absolute.
Did they show you the tears I cried,
When no one cared then hope had died?
Did they even mention how I still stood tall,
Knowing then I had nothing at all?
They’ll sell you stories, cheap and loud,
To win the favor of a crowd.
But hearts don’t heal from secondhand views —
So again I ask, who ya listening to?

They speak my name as if it’s theirs to own,
But I built my path, I stand alone.
I don’t bow down, I don’t explain —
I rise untouched of petty shame.
You think their words define my worth?
Watch me blaze and break this earth.
I’m not the whispers that they spread,
I’m every word they left unsaid.
So let them talk, let them twist the view —
Their noise can’t shake what I know is true.
You want the truth? Try to walk in my shoes…
And ask yourself again — who ya listening to?

So next time silence fills the room,
And you’re chasing echoes in the gloom —
Remember this before you choose:
Not all voices speak the truth.
I’ve heard the lies, I’ve felt the sting,
But I won’t kneel to anything.
I know my name, I know what’s true —
So I’ll ask one last time…

Who ya listening to?