Art
photo essay: my punk rock youth 1987-1992
Looking through their eyes / it was hard for me to walk / walk / as I judged my walk / as stiff and “white” / and hated myself. / I saw myself / through their eyes / on the / Football field / Basketball court / Baseball diamond / Hell of high-school gym class / stumbling around / in ignorance of the rules / and fear of the hurtling spheres / and I judged myself / a useless faggot.
Words and Photography by Albert M Frank III
I saw myself through their eyes
talking to white kids
and it appeared both
that I hated being black
and that I was better
than those black faces
watching me.
(Hanging with the outsiders. Lubbock 1987)
I saw myself in my
outdated boot-cut jeans
and leather jacket
as a nerd and
a freak.
Something beyond
explanation.
(The only other black south side punk I knew, Chicago 1988)
I saw my delicate face
and thin limbs
and heard my “proper” talk
and saw myself as
a victim waiting to happen.
(He wound up stealing all my girls)
I saw my thin frame
trying to remain invisible
as I walked the halls
between classes
only to wind up hunched
over a spiral binder
drawing comics, while
the teacher talked on about
Algebra.
(My parents tried to make me them)
Through their eyes
I saw myself walking
stiffly to the stage
in my graduation gown
to the deafening sound
of no applause.
(I tried to make friends with everyone in my dorm. Some were too different.)
And later, through other eyes I saw
my nappy hair and
full lips
set against
the sea of punk rockers
all white.
I saw myself trying to be
punker than them
to camouflage the blackness.
Through their eyes
I saw a strange dreadlocked
black man in an elevator
maybe a rapist
or robber
probably ignorant.
For 40 years I missed
everything that was
right in front of me.
half my life sacrificed
to the beast with a million eyes.
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