Black Christ

By Stephanie Dinsae

Christ was African

Christ was African

Christ was African

As I taste those words in my mouth, something doesn’t feel right

How can you say Christ was African when we know he was white?

I mean, there’s no way he could be African

Africans….are Black

Look at that olive…. lack of sin on his

Skin

If he were Black, how could he be the next of kin

No godly figure could be created in such an image

A dark, negative, undeveloped image

Christ could never be African

Those Africans were meant to be enslaved

And for all the people Jesus has saved

Those Africans were never a part of the picture

Unless you’re talkin’ bout the postcards mom and dad used to pass around during Christmas dinner

Them Africans were crucified in pieces of wood hugged by moss

Kinda like the way Jesus Christ was crucified on a piece of wood called the cross

Pause

That’s… mere coincidence

Nothing else similar about those kinda incidents

Because if Jesus were Black, do you know how much trouble we white folk would be in?

Do you know how much damage we’ve caused?

What we’ve done to Africans on the continent and abroad?

My head won’t allow me to process such a thought

If God were created in the image of an African, I would be so distraught

Would be so frightened of God

So taken aback, so surprised

Surprised that a people so low could have originated from a place so high

That God is a Black person resting calmly in the sky

Looking upon us white folk, shaking his head

Watching us look back in dread

Fearing the day we’re finally dead

Because we thought WE were god and let it get to our head

Drowning in sorrow and regret

Wishing we had never set

Out to ruin that continent

To go and play God

When all along, he was playing us

Now into flames we combust