The moment they thought DEI meant Black or queer,
was the moment they lost the war,
so far removed from the struggle,
like history ain’t at their door.

They forget—
they were once as poor,
if not standing beside us, knee-deep in the same war.
Before race, there was class,
before color, there was caste,
yet the blame never lands
on the hands that built the past.

The structure was forged with intent,
inequality chiseled in stone.
Yet the victims bear the weight—
never the architects on their thrones.

We ain’t choose to be here,
displaced, discarded, denied.
And the land? It was never theirs to give,
yet they legislate stolen soil with pride.

And now, the world shakes,
coups play out in real-time,
yet we watch—numb, scrolling,
like history don’t rhyme.

There is no ethical billionaire,
only loopholes and ledgers,
only tax cuts dressed as charity,
only wealth hoarded in hidden treasures.

To be ethical is to see,
to hold every class in your care.
But justice ain’t profitable,
so tell me—who’s really aware?