Reflecting on a Shakespearean Twist in Modern Discourse PT2

Once upon a time, I dabbled in Shakespearean drama and dreamed of becoming a professional wordsmith, studying the Bard and living abroad. Inspired by those days and the recent outcry of a certain misguided faction, I've crafted a response steeped in the elegance and sharpness of Elizabethan wit.

So, gather 'round, good people, for I present a comedic monologue that takes aim at the absurdities of disparaging Black jobs, childless women with cats, and DEI hires.

If you enjoyed this and my previous foray into this theatrical style, let me know if you'd like to see more of these Shakespearean snarks in the future.

NY Times, Luci Gutierrez

Oh, prithee, good people, gather near,

For I must weave a tale both sharp and clear.

Lo, yonder voices, stinging like a bee,

From the mouth of a party, or so they decree,

Who mock the labor of my noble kin,

And cast aspersions where none should have been.

“Hark!” they cry, “Behold the Blackened trade,

A job for none but those who shade

Themselves in hues of melanin so grand,

Yet shunned by those who dwell in this fair land.”

Fie! What a jest! What a woeful, wretched play,

To think such minds still haunt our modern day.

O, ye who deride our worth with venom’s kiss,

Dost thou not know? We care not for your hiss.

And lo! Another scoff hath found its mark:

“See yon childless dames who keep cats in the dark!

With hearts as barren as the moon’s pale gleam,

They prattle ‘bout their work, but ‘tis all but a dream.”

Nay, vile knaves, what a wretched sight to see,

The scorn they cast upon such souls as we.

For our hearts are full, though not with brood,

But with courage, strength, and service good.

And mark ye this—there’s more in their cruel jest,

They mock those hired for the cause of fairness and the rest.

“Diversity hires,” they sneer, with faces set in frown,

As if the color of one’s skin should drag them down.

Hark! Let it be known, I am not so meek,

Nor will I suffer their disdainful streak.

Dost thou wish to vex me with thy vile disdain?

Be forewarned—approach not, or face my sharpest pain.

For I, with wit and scorn in equal measure,

Will not suffer fools who mock my treasure.

Stay away, ye miscreants, from my hallowed ground,

Lest thou wish to hear my rage resound.

Forsooth, I say unto thee, heed my call,

Embrace the truth, or prepare for a fall.

These words of mine, so candid and so bright,

Shall light thy path, or stoke thy direst plight.