Dear Kendrick

All our lives we had to fight.
Hard times passed from generation to generation.
You see Kendrick, My grandparents fought.
My mother fought.
And 22 years into democracy, I am fighting.

I was born into “freedom” but i am still not free.

I can’t have me a house or car, 40 acres and a mule,
because we live in a society where I have to work twice as hard as them to get half of what they have.
So much for equality.

I was born into “freedom” and i am still not free.

A student cries for access to education and
we are shot at, tear gassed and jailed.
We are criminalised when we all know the politicians are the real culprits.

I was born into “freedom” and i am still not free.

Now, Kendrick, I know you love Nelson Mandela and I don’t mean to burst your bubble,
but how can we even begin to praise a man who fought for our right to vote but not emancipate us from economic oppression?

I was born into “freedom” and I am still not free.

What good is it for a poor man to vote when
his government will watch him work three jobs a day just to get by,
while they drive their Range Rovers with their well-fed, fat bellies?

I was born into “freedom” and I am still not free.

We are still fighting the same fight our ancestors had to fight and oppression is still rife.
A cry for equality and the police wanna kill us dead in the streets for sure.
I’m at the preacher’s door, my knees are weak and all I have to ask him is
“Mr Preacher, does God really got us?”

I was born into “freedom” and i am still not free.

And it’s got me so fucked up and we’re all fucked.
It’s got me thinking that God don’t got us
And i wanna know from you…

Are we really gonna be alright?