I've never visited Nigeria.
My mum said that I should know where she comes from
Meet my cousins, my aunty, my granny
Get some black in
My life, God knows I need some
But wait.
When I say "No", people scowl
The other blacks accuse me of being too proud
Pride.
What's pride again?
When it comes to Naij, I'm not feeling that sensation.
Is that wrong?
I do not know this country
Yet when I walk down the road, the gyaldem are singing one song
"White-washed! White-washed! Be proud of your country!'
Mumzy would sing the same song in a different tune. "Don't make whites your friend, they'll stop at nothing to win."
Win? You don't want them to win
But yet you birthed a black woman
in the world that they're thriving in, so
I put that weave in my hair
Hot comb to the air
Victoria's Secret 'Bare Vanilla', yeah, it's up in the air
I'll wear the Nike Pros, stop dressing like myself
and be like everyone else in order to thrive
Can you not see I'm trying to survive?
I'm surviving.
I might not be black, but at least I'm surviving.
The two cannot exist at the same time and to keep surviving,
you'll never catch me in Naij
Wearing akra, eating rice, kicking it with my peoples who can afford to be black on black on black without saying 'sorry'
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for not visiting Nigeria.
I'm sorry for being like Isabella and Tia
I'm sorry that I'll never understand that
we are underepresented
We try to stick together
We don't settle for less
We long for community
We long for power
But I've become a slave to white power.