Dear LPG, 

We have all been there at one point or another in our lives.  I defy anyone not to have a memory of being singled out because of something that made them different from the rest.  The big difference is that the young of today appear to have a little more freedom when it comes to speaking up for themselves, and the messages spread on the news, television and social media have forced a few more of the people around them to make a bit more of an effort to try to understand. 

Today's pensioners can remember when our approach to one of the most noticeable differences of colour was always there, but taboo made talking about our real deep-felt feelings and thoughts on the subject unviable.  

With the benefit of hindsight and more social freedom, this poem offers a flavour of what I feel many of the first West Indian people who took up the invitation to land on British soil might have felt and would have wanted to say not long after landing here… 

WILLING, ABLE AND BLACK

Willing, able, black and respectable,
Honest, attractive, qualified and sensible;
Kind, hopeful, pleasant and loveable,
But often resented for the colour of my skin.

Devoted to my family, giving honour and respect,
Patient, forgiving, but often unseen;
Someone with a black face can never fit in,
Whether they’re intelligent, attractive or plain.

Why do you think that I’ll never fit in?
I have a will, a hope and an aim,
To live, love and work and fulfil all my dreams;
Willing, able and black that is true,
But I cannot change that, and neither can you!

©2022 by Beverly Gooden Wilson