If You Stick A Knife

During The Past Eleven Days Here In The Muslim World, I Have Eaten From The Same Plate, Drunk From The Same Glass, And Slept On The Same Rug - While Praying To The Same God - With Fellow Muslims, Whose Eyes Were The Bluest Of Blue, Whose Hair Was The Blondest Of Blond, And Whose Skin Was The Whitest Of White. And In The Words And In The Deeds Of The White Muslims, I Felt The Same Sincerity That I Felt Among The Black African Muslims Of Nigeria, Sudan And Ghana.

You Spend So Much Time Barking Up The Civil-rights Tree, You Don't Even Know There's A Human-rights Tree On The Same Floor.

I Don't Think You Can Having An Opportunity To Ride Either On The Front Or The Back Or In The Middle Of Someone Else's Bus Doesn't Dignify You.

When I'm Born I'm Black, When I Grow Up I'm Black, When I'm In The Sun I'm Black, When I'm Sick I'm Black, When I Die I'm Black, And You...when You're Born You're Pink, When You Grow Up You're White, When You're Cold You're Blue, When You're Sick You're Green, When You Die You're Grey And You Dare Call Me Coloured.

In Harlem, For Instance, All Of The Stores Are Owned By White People, All Of The Buildings Are Owned By White People. The Black People Are Just There - Paying Rent, Buying The Groceries; But They Don't Own The Stores, Clothing Stores, Food Stores, Any Kind Of Stores; Don't Even Own The Homes That They Live In. They Are All Owned By Outsiders, And For These Run-down Apartment Dwellings, The Black Man In Harlem Pays More Money Than The Man Down In The Rich Park Avenue Section.