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A Reflection on the High Museum of Art by a Black Woman

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So This Fancy-Shmancy, Whitey-Ditey Museum Stuck Its Only Black Exhibit In Its Basement

On The Highest Level

The Most Contemporary Art Was Showcased

Was Proud

Was Out For Everyone To Admire

And Love


The Second Highest

The American Art

Held Brave Fixtures Fixated On Reminiscing On The Early Days

The Pale Matte Ambiance Before

Before The Black Art Began Renaissancing



Black Art Was Renaissancing.


They Just Weren’t Included

Weren’t Fixated On

In This Reminisce


Next The Lower Level

Just Above Lobby

Eurocentricity Took Me On A Whirlwind Back To History Class

Back To My Most Silent Time    

What A Strange Memory To Have


[aside – i strolled into a room full of various type of trees/ this took me to very dark place /where whites and trees look at me /like the oddest fruit in suburban breeze]


Latinx Art Was Nowhere To Be Found.


Asian Architecture Had No Location Here


And Finally,

If You Could Find Her,

If Someone Told You About Her,

If You Had A Strong Inclination She Should Be There,


Mama Africa And Her Pride

Was There,

A Hidden Figure In The Corner

Away From The Mainstream Narrative

Away From The Nice, Bright American, European and Contemporary art

Threw Mama And Her Pride Under The Gutter Of A Welcome Sign

Away From Her Previous Colonizers

Previous Masters, Rapists, Murderers


The High Museum Of The Eurocentric Arts Did This.


And Maybe They Did It Out Of Respect.

Maybe They Didn’t.


Maybe They Just Didn’t Think About It.

Ogechi N. Ofodu, 19, Atlanta’s Youth Poet Laureate 2017-2018 and sophomore at Georgia State University. Photo by Maya Martin, 16, VOX summer intern. 


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