You are in love with Tommy,
Because his last name is Hilfiger,
But behind closed doors, Tommy,
Is calling you a nigger,

But you could care less,
Because you have been taught to dress to impress,
If I ask you about your true history,
You would have to look on the back of your jeans and Guess,

You come up in the club wearing Versace,
Clothes made by a homosexual male,
So even when you say you are straight,
It is very hard to tell,
And for footwear, you wear Timberlands,

Even under the sun,
That same tree that's the symbol for them,
Could have been the same one your ancestors were hung from,

I cannot forget Nautica,
When was the last memory you have of ships,
Coming to North America in shackles,
Being beaten over the back with whips,

And to my beautiful black queens,
Whose creative womb has become barren,
I am confused because your face says Nefertiti,
But your sweater reads Donna Karen,

When was the last time you saw Liz Claiborne,
Conversing with black women,
But as soon as her name is printed on a purse,
To Macy's you quickly go, running,

Ralph Lauren doesn't even look at black men,
Unless they are driving him around town,
But as soon as that slave master appears on the back of a horse,
You put whatever you have picked up down,

My people reclaim your status in this world and in your life,
F.U.B.U. in case you didn't know, stands for (For Us By Us),
Buying black will someday suffice,
Do you know who owns Timberland fashion?

Well, Timberland is owned by the president of the KKK,
Surprised? Don't be.
Read more books black people,
Always hope for the best and prepare for the worst,
You may not get what you pay for,
But you'll surely pay for what you get.

© ~ Maya Angelou