Any politically dominant class is also ideologically dominant; that is, it keeps its position because the dominated class accepts its moral and intellectual leadership.
I refuse to vote for another US Black Leader. I refuse to waste another ten footsteps walking to the polls of Black Leadership. I refuse to look across the bridge elevated above the gulf of class, prestige, and proximity to Whyte Privilege. I refuse to steel my nerves for that journey across that bridge when the signs clearly read,”One Way” when it should be an eight lane highway leading them to me as much as me being lead to them.
I refuse to plan my commute across that chasm that divides us. I refuse to map out my excursion from what seems to be a landlocked position of Black Authenticity so authentic, it does not need a label unless on a magnet of those Black Leaders that drive through so infrequently, people have to have their Black Authenticity advertised for them. My hourly drive through the Common and Shared Black Experience is not a photo opportunity; no flash, no wave from chauffeured vehicle; no cut, edit, and paste of b-roll footage for press releases. I refuse to travel another millimeter towards another candidate of Black Leadership.
I refuse to cast my ballot in the campaigns of the Black intellectual elite or the Black intellectuals of the Whyte elite. I refuse to be swayed by thirty second commercials interrupting my scheduled Blackness to have my fictive kinship obligations obligated. I refuse to engage topics of today regarding these far off idols at bus stops in Blackville. Let my knees not grow water as I voyage across endless waves and vibrations arguing about lives that matter but only physically embraced during election cycles. Let me not stretch yet another calf muscle in favor of those that look similar but consider me unequally yoked.
Let me not travel.
Let me not wait.
Let me not waste.
Let me not hope.
Let me be.
I refuse to vote for another US Black Leader.