A Letter to My Unborn Black Son

A Letter to My Unborn Black Son prose poem

Dear son, African American warrior,
Reincarnation of the people of the Sudan. I hope you understand why 
I am writing you this letter. And 
hopefully, by the time you read it
 Race relations in America are a lot 
better than what they are now. You 
will understand why I will beg you 
not to wear a hoodie when you leave
our home. You will understand why 
I ask you to be careful outside these 

Maybe your best friends will be named
 Trayvon and Michael. And they will be the
 namesakes of the young men who died
 because of indifference, and because of 
hate. Dear son, I know you will relate.
Because I will have read the Autobiography
 of Malcolm X to you while you were in
 your mother’s womb. You will come into 
this life knowing that black youth and men 
are doomed in America.

Son, I hate to scare ya, but your ancestors 
were taken from the shores of Africa. They 
snatched ya great great great great grandparents
 and brought them here. Took away our language
 and culture, and in black women and men 
instilled fear. Son I want you to know the truth 
of this place here.

Dear son, your skin will be the reason why
 they call you nigger, why cops will pull up
to your car with their fingers shaking on the
 trigger. Ask Trayvon and Michael. They will 
tell you what happened to the people they were 
named after. They will tell you tales of hell,
each with a sad, sad chapter.
Black boys and men are being killed and We are being treated like we don’t matter.
Like we don’t even matter.

Son, I am preparing you for a world that
 focuses on race, that moves at an unhealthy pace, 
Where your mother and other black women
 like her are disgraced. There are people who 
will want you to increase the prison population.
They will start early in your education. Son, this
 is all truth, and it’s all real. You will learn when 
I read to you what happened to Emmett Till.

I’ll stop here now son, don’t want you to be scared.
I write this letter to you because I want you to
 come into this world informed and prepared.

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Christopher D. Sims

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A poet, spoken word performer, emcee, and human rights activist. Has been writing poetry since the age of nine. An accomplished open mic host and slam poet who has been on the scene since the late 1990s. Has performed in cities such as New York, Washington, DC, Beloit, WI, Chicago, IL, Memphis, TN, and other places. Is the author of several chapbooks of poetry, including 2013's 'Universal Citizen.' Is also a recording artist who puts poetry and rap lyrics to music. A SoundCloud Hero for the Rockford, Illinois region.
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7 Comments on "A Letter to My Unborn Black Son"

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Christopher S. Bunch

Loved how it read like a letter. I also enjoyed the subtle use of rhymes, you used them in a very flexible way that didn’t make it seem “forced”. I respect that, as a fellow writer.


Gosh, Well written. I felt your anguish. Understood you perfectly. But it matters not how our ancestry go here, if their skin were white. once a new generation of color is born the experience will be as any other.

Nikita Mehendiratta

Wow, my jaw dropped.
Touching. For people we don’t see as other people as humans. This is shameful.

asoke kumar mitra

very heart wrenching write, fellow poet brother.


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