Woman Is The Nigger Of The World?!

Woman is the Nigger of the World By John Lennon Woman is the nigger of the world Yes she is...think about it Woman is the nigger of the world Think about it...do something about it We make her paint her face and dance If she won’t be slave, we say that she don’t love us If she’s real, we say she’s trying to be a man While putting her down we pretend that she is above us Woman is the nigger of the world...yes she is If you don’t believe me take a look to the one you’re with Woman is the slaves of the slaves Ah yeah...better scream about it We make her bear and raise our children And then we leave her flat for being a fat old mother then We tell her home is the only place she would be Then we complain that she’s too unworldly to be our friend Woman is the nigger of the world...yes she is If you don’t believe me take a look to the one you’re with Woman is the slaves of the slaves Yeah (think about it) We insult her everyday on TV And wonder why she has no guts or confidence When she’s young we kill her will to be free While telling her not to be so smart we put her down for being so dumb Woman is the nigger of the world...yes she is If you don’t believe me take a look to the one you’re with Woman is the slaves of the slaves Yes she is...if you believe me, you better scream about it. We make her paint her face and dance We make her paint her face and dance We make her paint her face and dance

Now could I have gotten away with saying that? The only reason John Lennon got away with it in 1972 was that Yoko said it first. Some black people, like Dick Gregory or Ron Dellums, felt OK with it. If I knew any black people, I might ask them about it. But it's actually all past. If we talk about it at all, it won't be because anyone plays this angry yet regretful song any more. Anyway, I am culturally and racially deprived. I don't know any blacks or niggers! And at this late date, it'll probably stay that way. I used to have a very good black friend in Austin thirty years ago and at least knew a few other blacks. None of them were inhuman or subhuman or superhuman, as far as I could tell. These days, everything has changed. Everyone I know is white, and I'm lucky if I have full knowledge of the bottoms of my feet! (What if I step on a pin or a staple?!)

I'm so cool. I'm a perfect fool. I lay in wait or lunge For prey Like any other sage or savage soul In pursuit of words or food. The older I get, the meaner I get About what's sage or savage And I wonder what is food and what isn't... Time goes on too fast, too slow, To chew it properly— And either way I miss John Lennon's art, Which was both fierce and fine-- It raised us high and laid us gently down In so many crucial moments of our anxious youth... He was not a Pied Piper, But he might have been Had he and we been only Slightly better than we are.