The New Black Art Renaissance
- Thread starter MASTERBAKER
- Start date
Hair Day
cool thread
They say liberty rang in 1776.
But it didn’t echo in our cotton fields.
Didn’t kiss our babies.
Didn’t bury our dead.
Didn’t save the man whose back was the blueprint of this nation’s economy.
So we stopped waiting.
This year, we tell our version:
He broke the chains.
She wrapped the child in stars and stripes so they could feel protected by what never protected her.
They stood barefoot in a field of white blooms — not for beauty, but memory.
Cotton still has teeth in our dreams.
Fireworks lit the sky.
But the fire behind their eyes?
That was ancestral.
That was earned.
That was ours.
He didn’t cry because he was weak.
He cried because he remembered.
Remembered the ships.
The auctions.
The kneeling prayers no one heard but God.
And yet—
They stood together.
Blood still fresh on the flag.
But this time?
They held the pen.
They wrote the verse.
They said:
“Freedom wasn’t granted.
It was forged.
In our wombs.
In our pain.
In the parts of America y’all try to forget.”
Tyesha C Law
43m ·“Run, Black family, run.
Not just from the fields — but from the silence.
From the rewritten textbooks.
From the fireworks that never lit our skies.
This ain’t just a painting.
It’s a memory America tried to bury…
But we remember.”
Let the chains rattle.
Let the wind testify.
Let the babies see what freedom really cost.
This is our Fourth Flame.
This is the real independence story.
They say liberty rang in 1776.
But it didn’t echo in our cotton fields.
Didn’t kiss our babies.
Didn’t bury our dead.
Didn’t save the man whose back was the blueprint of this nation’s economy.
So we stopped waiting.
This year, we tell our version:
He broke the chains.
She wrapped the child in stars and stripes so they could feel protected by what never protected her.
They stood barefoot in a field of white blooms — not for beauty, but memory.
Cotton still has teeth in our dreams.
Fireworks lit the sky.
But the fire behind their eyes?
That was ancestral.
That was earned.
That was ours.
He didn’t cry because he was weak.
He cried because he remembered.
Remembered the ships.
The auctions.
The kneeling prayers no one heard but God.
And yet—
They stood together.
Blood still fresh on the flag.
But this time?
They held the pen.
They wrote the verse.
They said:
“Freedom wasn’t granted.
It was forged.
In our wombs.
In our pain.
In the parts of America y’all try to forget.”
But it didn’t echo in our cotton fields.
Didn’t kiss our babies.
Didn’t bury our dead.
Didn’t save the man whose back was the blueprint of this nation’s economy.
So we stopped waiting.
This year, we tell our version:
He broke the chains.
She wrapped the child in stars and stripes so they could feel protected by what never protected her.
They stood barefoot in a field of white blooms — not for beauty, but memory.
Cotton still has teeth in our dreams.
Fireworks lit the sky.
But the fire behind their eyes?
That was ancestral.
That was earned.
That was ours.
He didn’t cry because he was weak.
He cried because he remembered.
Remembered the ships.
The auctions.
The kneeling prayers no one heard but God.
And yet—
They stood together.
Blood still fresh on the flag.
But this time?
They held the pen.
They wrote the verse.
They said:
“Freedom wasn’t granted.
It was forged.
In our wombs.
In our pain.
In the parts of America y’all try to forget.”
Andrew Thomas
8h ·PSA...Sorry To Rain On Your 4th, But Remember We Were Still Slaves
"We are still breaking chains they said were gone—drenched in the weight of history, praying not to drown in a system still dragging us beneath the surface."
This image powerfully echoes the ongoing struggle against systemic oppression in the U.S.—where the legacy of slavery, inequality, and injustice continues to manifest through mass incarceration, voter suppression, economic disparity, and racial trauma. The waterline marks the illusion of progress, while the chains remain stubbornly real.
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