J u n e S p o t l i g h t : F a u z i a A g b o n h i n
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As featured in CTV, CBC, and other publications, Fauzia Agbonhin is a 19-year-old Nigerian-Canadian slam poet and author of I Never Truly Hated You. She has represented London in two national festivals. She and her London team were ranked fourth place in Canada at the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word Poetry 2019. In addition, Fauzia performed at the first ever BLM protest in London Ontario with over 10,000 people. Fauzia is a recipient of the 2019 Lewis Coray TrailBlazer Award from the London Police and was showcased in the 2020 Night of Hero’s for Community Living London.
Additionally, she has performed for several organizations including Photography Without Borders, the Pillar Community Innovations Awards The Pathways to Prosperity National Conference, for the Minister of Refugees, Immigration, and Citizenship, for the Thames Valley District School Board's Diversity Conference, the Black Employee Network at TD bank, the Black Students Association at Western University, the Journeys to Migration 2019 event, the Life as a Refugee 2019 conference, several events at LUSO Community Services and for the kids in care at the Children's Aid Society. In her poetry, Fauzia addresses diversity, racism, mental health, anxiety, and many other social justice issues that face our society today. |
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Fauzia Agbonhin performing her original poem
Ode to the boy's who died to make hip hop happen 
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Ode to the boys who died to make hip hop happen
Inspired by Steven Willis When the city loves a black man they make hip hop songs about him Have you ever listened to the rhythm of a hip hop song about a black man The bass is crafted from the beat of that black mans heart When the city loves a black man He becomes a hashtag His name will be displayed in tweets and posts in blue font, underlined, italicized His name will sweep the nation and leave the mouths of people he never knew
See the fastest ways for a black man become trendy is to die So isn’t it funny how fast death becomes fashionable Becomes Tangible Becomes token character in a lyrical hymm Death becomes paint stroke on street corners,, Posts on Instagram, It becomes clickable, touchable, portable, holdable, My phone holds more Black Death than you can even imagine It can recite more dead black names than you can even fathom So I find it funny how When the city loves a black man silence sits on the tongue of a white girl who fought so hard to get braids twisted onto the roots of her scalp See, words die when we do But not when an arab boy wants to call his friends niggas those who yell so loud for the equal rights to a word They don’t even understand A word They can’t even comprehend Sling blindfolds over their eyes And curtains over their hearts I guess some people can only see “racism” when they can’t tell it apart From privilege It must be a one hell of a gift to witness five black people die in the span of three days and still think racism isn’t legitimate When the city loves the black man They realize they want out rhythm but not our blues they want our backbones, this melanin rich skin but they won’t march with you So They will appropriate And confiscate Pretend to Commemorate And celebrate Why don’t you concentrate On The black man hate In North America You don’t care about us If you’re silent when we need you If you use our culture when it’s convenient to When the city loves the black man They wear wear Durags tell their friends they got waves and fades And that they listen to hip hop everyday And maybe if we’re lucky they’ll buy A double XL white t shirts with Tupac’s face on it To prove they aren’t racist They aren’t hating They aren’t taking When the city loves a black man The city watches that black man die over and over and over again Splayed out in blood on timelines We see quotes of his last words Carved into Childrens bio s When the city loves a black man The city allows people to draw him on street corners and in homes he’s never stepped foot in they turn his death into a hymn into a line on a piece of paper So we can digest it And pretend we have addressed it We print their faces on tshirts we wear to protests Where we fight for the right to live past the age of 25 When the city loves a black man They will remember nothing about him except how he died And that ain’t right So an ode to the black boys who died to make hip hop happen we will sing your blues away For the culture |
