Self-Determination Is The Highest Expression Of Democracy

InPDUM celebrates African Woman Cultural Workers for African Women’s Month! - InPDUM

The Uhuru Movement’s position since our inception has been “African women must lead”! African women are leading the worldwide African liberation movement on all fronts, including in the creation of cultural work which delights, amazes, provokes thought and inspires resistance in African people. Read the works of the some of the talented women of the Uhuru Movement.

“The Black Messiah” 

Thamanai Justine, InPDUM

The Black Messiah

Is my Messiah 

On Most Mondays 

He Sings the Blues 

I don’t know when or where he sleeps 

I don’t know where or when he eats 

I don’t know when or where he paints 

Yet, the Black Messiah is my Messiah 

On Most Mondays 

He Sings the Blues 

He’s Always loving someone new 

With infinite access to a new sweet soul 

But I don’t need to know 

No Need for information 

Maybe a little insight 

The Black Messiah Is My Messiah 

On Most Mondays 

He sings the Blues 

And I love him 

I love him for no reason

I love Him for every reason 

I don’t know how 

I don’t know why 

And I don’t have to 

I just know that I do 

And that it’s ok

The Black Messiah is my Messiah 

On most Mondays He sings the Blues


Dzidzor Azaglo, InPDUM

When we first start our journeys as daughters, we soon learn that there is more that is required from us. 

We are reminded  of the responsibility that we hold at an early stage. 

As if becoming a daughter was a curse, we are taught to shrink and hide. 

When threatened, we are asked who would accept us if we aren’t good enough? Who would like/love us if we were different?

 We start to believe it. 

We teach ourselves that we desire to be wanted, liked and similar. 

We start to believe our value is weighed by the amount of acceptance that we receive from others. When we are left empty, we question our emptiness. 

Make a song with the echos in our hollow spaces and dance to the emancipation of plantation fields we didn’t know we lived on. 

Then we ask ourselves: Is it worth it? 

To carry the burden of the others while we learn how to balance it all?

“Listen, Jack”

Jenny Vernet, African National Women’s Organization (ANWO)

They got the narrative 

Haiti just a place of curses and bad dreams 

Big mad cause we were the first to be free

But nah we still aint free 

Trujillo still got grandmas cryin 

Aint no hearses, or caskets 

or holy hymns here 

only mass graves 

Dominicano, Cubano, Ayiti

Yet they try to divide us

Ya ever heard of 

Jean Michel Basquiat?

Toussaint Louverture?

Jean-Jacques Dessalines?

What about Taino?

Murdered, raped and pillaged 

Haitian women still bein

Murdered, raped and pillaged

Billions owed 

People really think 

We asking for favors though 

Quick question, Jack

What hand out?

My ancestors 

My people

gettin whipped on they backs

Yes, they still whipping my niggas on they backs 

 They tried to kill us

They still tryna kill us 

But We still here

We out here

Yes I’m still here

Best beleive I aint goin no mother fuckin where 

Cause this is resilience 

And I’m stayin 

You and yours couldn’t even dream up

Not even your darkest nightmares

Could get a one up 

This is resilience  

and that shit runs through me 

Best believe my ancestors watching over me

They gathered by a fire 

Slit a pig and let it bleed 

And that’s how I’m here 

A powerful sight indeed 


Yaasante Owens, InPDUM, African People’s Socialist Party (APSP)

Never do they use colonialism 

To describe our condition 

Never do they say genocide 

A glaring omission 

They call it racism 

So anti-racist capitalism

Becomes their one true mission


That doesn’t begin 

To describe our plight 

I went back to Africa 

Late last night

Chanting down Babylon 

With all my might 

Then I was a slave 

Chained to other slaves 

Urging a young boy

To cool down his fright 

I held his hand

Strong and firm 

Resistance was near

He would learn

 What to the slave 

Is a flying brick 

Hurled at a slaver’s skull 

So thick 

Hurled at his teeth 

Yellow and brittle 

If love is a tree 

Freedom is whittled 

Into an arrow 

A burning spear 

In through one side 

And out the other ear 

Of a slave master 

Who wouldn’t listen 

To the cries of black children 

In blood he would christen

That young boy is older now

He was shot in the dark 

While his pocket held skittles 

He was left on the asphalt

While his skin burned and sizzled 

He was killed in the park 

For having a toy gun 

He was suffocated by the knee 

Of a colonizer having fun 

From then till now 

One thing remains true 

The thoughts in their heads 

Could never hurt you 

It was power in their hands 

Not lack of virtues 

That made black death 

A fact that would urge you 

To post black tiles

And sing black songs 

And use black hashtags 

In a fight that can’t be won 

By spontaneous struggle 

Tailing tragic events 

With an ideology that’s muddled 

And no form of defense 

Pick a bigger weapon

By now we should learn 

Freedom won’t be given 

It is something that is earned

InPDUM is building a culture of Revolution. We are creating works of music, writing, poetry and all forms of art that promote the Revolution and the liberation of our people. We are calling on all artists to join today at and help build the culture of Revolution. If you want to write for African Resistance Now, send an email to today! 

Add Your Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Your Name *

Your Mail *

Your Comment*