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Les carnets web de l'écrivain Stanley Péan

La persistance de l’indignation

Depuis une semaine, l’actualité n’a cessé de fournir des nouvelles sources de colère, d’indignation et de tristesse. De l’affaire Jacob Blake à Kenosha dans le Wisconsin à la mort prématurée du comédien Chadwick Boseman, en passant par l’expédition meurtrière du jeune suprémaciste blanc Kyle Rittenhouse sans oublier le 65e anniversaire de l’assassinat sordide d’Emmett Till à Money dans le Mississipi. N’en jetez plus, la cour est pleine…

La relecture d’un billet de blogue de Steve Locke sur son expérience du profilage racial (“I Fit the Description“, publié initialement en décembre 2015) m’a en tout cas inspiré un nouveau texte de chanson en anglais que j’ai confié à mon ami le groovemeister Mark Allan Haynes pour qu’il le couche sur une musique de son crû.

Ça se lit comme suit:

I FIT THE PROFILE

I don’t fit in your neighborhoods
You’d rather I live in some backwoods
I don’t fit in your children’s schools
Somehow that’d break some kinda rules
I don’t fit in your private clubs
Ts’okay, I never cared for snobs
Where do I fit? In what damn file?
I fit the profile, I fit the profile

I don’t fit in your community
You lock me out in all immunity
I don’t fit in luxurious high-rises
To you, my life looks like a crisis
I’m through with all your perverse games
Beware ‘cause I’ve been taking down names
Where do I fit? In what damn file?
I fit the profile, I fit the profile

I fit the profile of the street mugger
I fit the profile of the drug dealer
You see my sisters as your maids, your hookers
You’d keep us all as afraid onlookers
I fit the profile of the pimp, the rapist
I fit the profile of your chimp, but I’m pissed

I don’t fit in your worldwide plans
‘cept to wage war in distant lands
I don’t fit when protesting in peace
You’d rather choke me with that leash
How dare I take down my knee?
You’d rather put yours on my neck
Where do I fit? In what damn file?
I fit the profile, I fit the profile

You’re always asking for my ID
But never cared for my ideas
You like to see me sing and dance
You’d lock me up given the chance
You want us all in safe containment
To you, our life is entertainment
S’that where I fit? There, in the sty?
That is the profile, that is the profile

The paradise for which you yearn
Is like the cross you used to burn
Each time you lynched one of us
You still claim I fit the profile
You’d rather see cities on fire
Than bring one cop to justice

I fit the profile of the street mugger
I fit the profile of the drug dealer
You see my sisters as your maids, your hookers
You’d keep us all as afraid onlookers
I fit the profile of the pimp, the rapist
I fit the profile of your chimp, but I’m pissed

August 30th, 2020
Catégorie: Commentaires, Événements, Nouvelles, Réflexions Catégorie: Aucune

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