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Crystal C. Mercer



For every Black body a victim of the American genocide…

Caucasians cause casualties,

And we just suppose to causally,

Get back to life before a Black body bled in the streets?

An arrest is not enough,

How about that action to stop killing us,

How about those reparations to stop keeping us,

Generations behind,

How about our protest songs being heard on capital steps,

And yet,

We can’t overcome,

On any day,

The grip America has on our Black lives because of the color of our faces,

They slap face, 

In Blackface,

Then monetize our Black shape,

Package our flesh,

Then put us in that black case,

Mamas cry,

Daddies cry,

Brothers cry,

Sisters cry, 

Aunties cry,

Uncles cry,

Cousins cry,

Doves cry,

But never has America even apologized,

For ending so many of our Black lives,

Harvested us from the coast,

I stood in a slave castle,

I saw the line of demarcation,

Nearly 3 feet high,

Of blood,

And feces,

And sweat,

And piss,

And excrements,

And rotting flesh,

In the African heat,

In a dark,



I stood there,

Thinking I would weep,

But my tears were tangled in my rage,

My face remained dry,

And twisted in disgust,


“How could they do this to us”?

Washed us in Slave River,

Before they crammed us into boats,

A long journey,

Scented of salt,


And bile,

Brought us to a stolen country,

That we tilled into lush,


And prosperous property,

While we remained property,

Standing in the corners of our master’s house,

Keeping quiet so that we could learn how to read,

Keeping quiet so that we could avoid the whip,

The rape,

The spit,

The hate,

Keeping quiet so that we could steal away in the night,

Follow the brightest star,

Come back for the others,

Fight for our freedom,

Again and again,

Every damn day,

For five hundreds years,

To still be crying over our dead children,

Asking just to live,

An arrest is not enough,

You can’t pacify us with pseudo-justice,

You saw the tape and did nothing,

We saw the tape,

And we weren’t going,

But we’ve had the footage since 1957,

Here in Little Rock,

When grown white folks were spitting on Elizabeth Eckford,

Where were your arrests then?

When my daddy had glass coke bottles throw at his head and it peeled off his skin,

When police stopped me, 

Or won’t stop following me,

Because my hair can block out the sun,

And stop the wind,

We worked too hard to survive,

Everyday we wake up with the hopes of staying alive,

And here these folks come,

Standing their ground,

Toting their guns,

Driving around,

And one by one,

Stalking our people,

Until they kill some,

What in the absolute fuck?!?!

On a Georgia road,

In a pickup truck,

Or pick a city,

America is guilty,

Of these crimes against humanity,

Yes, I am Black,

And I am human,

I am tired of explaining that,

That my Black, beautiful ass,

Deserves to exist,

And every clap back,

For every racist attack,

Is ready for this round of applause,

Not the rounds of bullets, 

And our blood on the walls,

Jail is not death,

Your sons can’t walk the earth that our sons are buried beneath,

This mentality of being above us,

When we don’t give a fuck,

We just want to live,

Don’t need no DA,

No jury,

No judge,

To contain my fury,

An arrest is not enough,

Want I need is for y’all to stop killing us,

Stop stealing us,

Stop squealing us,

Stop following us,

Stop discussing us,

Stop asking us,

Stop tasking us,

Stop Carole fucking Bask-ing us,

Stop harassing us,

Stop jacking us,

Stop hacking us,

Stop attacking us,

Stop expecting us,

To just pick up where we left off, 

Like a murder didn’t happen,

I’m trying to be Martin,

But don’t test me,

That Nat Turner just might tap in,

That Black Moses might put that steel in your back and,

Ask you,

“How does it feel”?,

To know that the end of your life might be real, 

But I don’t wanna kill…

I just wanna live,

And without the threat,

Of my murderer being free,

Without regret,

But in this here so-called America, 

That hasn’t happened yet,

So let me tell you bout me…

No justice,

No peace,

No backing down,

No retreat, 

I am not satisfied. 

An arrest is not enough. 

Black create(her), Artist, and Activist, Crystal C. Mercer is a keep(her) of Black Culture utilizing theatre, poetry, and textiles to communicate ancestral messages and tell social justice narratives.

Crystal C. Mercer

Crystal C. Mercer

The create(her)

A Black Create(her), businesswoman and conduit for culture and community, CrystalC.Mercer is a celebrated artist, activist, and public servant.She utilizes theatre, poetry, and textiles to communicate ancestral messages and tell social justice narratives.

Crystal C. Mercer

The create(her)

is just a little girl from Little Rock , Arkansas. An all-around AfroCreative, Mercer is a Textile Artist, Actor, Activist, Poet, Playwright, Author, Founder and Creative Director of Columbus Creative Arts + Activism ,and Lead Designer and Merchant of Mercer Textile Mercantile.  Mercer is the recipient of grants from PEN America and the Dramatist Guild Foundation, which help her continue her charge as a storyteller and a keeper of the culture. She is a graduate of the Clinton School of Public Service (MPS).

Mercer’s past credits include a number of plays, musicals, and performances in Arkansas, off-Broadway in NewYork ,and internationally in Canterbury, England and Accra,Ghana. She fuses arts and activism by using theatre, poetry, and textiles to tell social justice narratives, through merchandising artifacts of the culture and storytelling, with an emphasis of uplifting voices of color and making marginalized populations visible.

A dedicated public servant, a woman of many creative talents, and the daughter of legendary late civil rights lawyer, Attorney Christopher C. Mercer,Jr., she honors the legacy of her father by using artistic mediums as a tool for empowerment ,education ,and social justice.  From Little Rock, Arkansas to Accra, Ghana, Mercer has made an international impact as an artist and an activist.

A gem from The Natural State , Mercer is always looking for the next adventure that will unearth her poetic, textile, and dramatic magic.

Activated by arts and activism…She knows, shows, and cares about what’s going on in the hood.

Watch Black Glow Matters, a short film (May 17, 2020)

Download Black Glow Matters, EP

Buy From Cotton to Silk: The Magic of Black Hair (Et Alia Press, Spring 2021)

Crystal C. Mercer is represented by The Rhonna-Rose Agency!