Michael Moore’s Poem About Rashida Tlaib Just Gave Us the Creeps

Ashley (Kimber)

There’s creepy.

Then there’s Michael Moore reciting a poem for Rashida Tlaib creepy:

Oh, dear God.

I don’t expect ANY of you to get through all of this… so here it is, in its sickening glory:

This is for Rashida. It’s called ‘Rashida, Rashida.’ So creative. Rashida, Rashida, from the 313. Our Motor City Avenger. Our fierce force of justice, leading, fighting, leaping tall police barricades in a single bound. Rashida, Rashida, Detroit’s Captain Marvel.

At Trump’s speech, it took eight men to stop her, and still, she wouldn’t stop. City cops, state cops, sheriff’s deputies, Trump goons, Secret Service, did they really think they could defeat her? This is a city whose greatest piece of public art is a goddamn 30-foot bronze fist of Joe Louis! RASHIDA!

Rashida. Rashida Aretha. Rashida Diana. Rashida Della. Rashida Madonna. Rashida Great Women of Detroit, lift us up. Take us over to the other side. Ain’t no mountain high enough.

Rashida Smoky. Rashida Stevie. Rashida Barry. Rashida Judge Damon Keith. Rashida Kenny. Rashida Goodman and Sugar and Rob and Kravitz. Rashida. Ramallah’s distant daughter.

The cry of the oppressed and the occupied every day shoots life through her very bones. She will not, she cannot forget. Their cries, their screams are now heard through her very existence in the halls of the great Congress. They cannot now pretend not to hear it. The slaughter at the Gaza wall, Netanyahu’s wall, Trump’s wall, our wall, has been brought into the grand chamber of the people’s House. And the old caucasians pretend not to notice.

But it is now impossible not to see it, because everywhere you turn, there they are. There she is. Rashida and Ilhan and Alexandria and the women, the WOMEN, America, the new America, it looks like Rashida! It is Rashida! Rashida!

Rashida means resist! Rashida means revolt! Rashida means represent! Rashida means reclaim! Rashida means reparate! Rashida means reimagine America where no one goes hungry, no one sleeps in the snow, everyone sees the DOCTOR! Everyone goes to a great school! Everyone shares the pie! Everyone has a seat at the table! Everyone is treated equally! And every woman controls her own identity, her own body!

And men! And men realize how they can truly help fix the mess the men before them created! Men! MEN! Men! You can be Rashida! Men, act in ways, act in ways that it will take eight Secret Service men to stop you! Rashida! Rashida! RISE UP! RISE UP! EVERYONE, RISE UP! IT’S ALREADY TOO LATE!

RISE UP! RISE UP! IT’S NOT TOO LATE! RASHIDA, RASHIDA, WE ARE ALL RASHIDA!

No.

We are not.

Now excuse me as I fill my eardrums with bleach.

PS: I just somehow got “Rashiiida, I just met a girl named RASHIDA” stuck in my head, and West Side Story is ruined forever. Shoot.

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