“in honour of belief” by d’bi.young, a jamaican-born and raised dub poet who resides in Toronto Canada with her son, moon anitafrika.

www.dbiyoung.net

in all parts of di world
live a little boy a little girl
who is crying a mommy for a daddy
for an auntie for an uncle for a granny
who is crying for a brotha a sistah a friend
to defend them from
di deep bitter bile

violating hands dat creep
beneath di sheet
when them a sleep
dis secret (secret)
a monster inna di closet

little girl little boy di moon is your witness
dis sickness
is no fault of yours
we carry the karmic shame
for not stepping in
and now you are to blame
little boy little girl di moon is your witness

little boy little girl di moon is your witness
dis sickness is no fault of yours
we carry di karmic scar
for not stepping in before it went too far
little girl little boy di moon is your witness

now di time has come
get off of di ground
no more a little girl a little boy
you are a womban you are a man
stand up strong

turn your face to the moon
and your spirit to the sun
and you SHINE without SHAME
this story is yours and mine to claim

little boy the moon is your witness
little girl the moon is your witness
little boy the moon is your witness
little girl the moon
the blue blue moon
is your witness
the moon is your witness
the moon is your witness

I believe. You said mumma it was poppa, but she never did believe. Dem na believe. No body would believe sey yu bradda hold u down, throw u pun de ground. Dem na believe.

Mi know about da teacher who tell yu fi stay late a school. Yes her teacher at school. Dem na believe.

And Uncle Henry who come to visit an could never find him room. Every night him coming. Too often. Too soon. Coming in mi room. Dem na believe. Dem na want to believe.

It was your fadda, my step-father, Nicole’s bradda, Linda’s grandfather, Tamika’s teacher at school, the neighbour, the priest, Uncle Henry, Uncle Dan, Marie’s cousin, the man without a name. They left you. Fearful, rejected, abused and used. Taken things not given freely but nobody would believe. Dem na believe.

And if somebody just believed! You could become proud, strong, beautiful, please (pause) someone help her right the wrong. Sista, hold up your head, na badda hang it down. Look mi in my eye. Erase all doubt, sweep away the shame it wasn’t your fault. I said it wasn’t your fault… You just had to tell me once that it happen to you and I would tell you, Sista it happen to me too. And even it didn’t and I was one of the lucky few, I would still believe you. I believe you. I believe. You believe me? All women all little girls should be believed. Do you believe? (turns her back to the audience and then turns around abruptly) Touch mi again you better run fi your life.