Since Ali Died

[Intro: Sample]
Ali, bomaye
Ali, bomaye
Ali, bomaye
Ali, bomaye

[Spoken Word: Omar Musa]
When I was nine years old
A kid in the schoolyard told me that my skin was the same colour as shit
I went home in tears. And for the only time in my life I told my parents that I wished I wasn’t brown
They sat me down and told me to be proud of being Muslim, to be proud of my skin, even if other people put me down for it
But I don’t think it sank in
A few weeks later, my dad began to show me footage of a charismatic, handsome black boxer from America
A proto-rapper who spat rhymes and cracked jokes, who drove a pink Cadillac, who drove white America into a frenzy, who stood up for his people and his convictions
All the while dancing on the canvas like no one before, and no one to come
And he was Muslim, like us, and proud of it
And when he said he was the greatest, when he said he was the prettiest, what I took from it wasn’t just some petty brag. It was that black was beautiful in a world that told him it wasn’t
I wasn’t black, but it taught me that my skin wasn’t the same colour as shit, it shone brighter than gold
I could never be a boxer, but I could have that unfuckwithable attitude. I could be fearless, I could be proud
What I’m saying, is that for me, Muhammad Ali was a circuit breaker, and that’s what I wanna be
For people who feel demoralised, demonised, and dehumanised
For people who have been kept silent for so long that they believe staying silent is inherent in their nature
Muhammad Ali died in June, 2016
I sat in a bar in Redfern and cried my eyes out
(Laughs) It may sound stupid, but it feels like that event threw my world into a tailspin
I saw the world held ransom by a tangerine fascist
Loved ones died and got locked up
Chemical white moons pulled at my tides
I met her, I lost her
My sanity turned into a runaway I chased over the curvature of the Earth
As I ran over the atlas, I saw the indestructible human spirit hell bent on destroying itself
Since Ali died
You know that Muhammad Ali made the shortest poem in the English language?
It simply reads: “Me, we”
And that’s where the alchemy is, that briefly allows us to see the truth
That’s what art is, a filament in the darkness connecting me to you
“Me, we”