My humanity, personhood, authenticity
Your hurt feelings, delusions, supremacy
That’s what’s at stake here. My day to day, now woven in such a way, that I fight the power while struggling through the cloud of darkness to sustain the life and happiness of two tiny people.
They pull at my hood and grab my hair,
looking me in the eyes-can they see how badly I want to cry? Runaway? Begin again…
more times than not,
I long for loneliness,
wish for chances to enjoy silence again.
No tiny person repeating nonsense words,
asking repetitive questions- “mommy, what’s your second favorite bird?”-climbing on my ribs like the uneven bars at a little gym open play date.
Maybe a day of solidarity could rip the gray away like the curls the boy liberated from my scalp when he pulled my hoodie from my face, staring into my soul,
Demanding love, unconditional and whole.
These two tiny people will be the death of me — and my salvation.
But right now, a nap undercovers, still and silent like death could have me reborn again able to muster the will to fight for my humanity another day, a million different ways.
No one wants to battle white supremacy, call out racism, take on politics and policies creating disparate impact.
I want to sleep, be alone, breathe and feel safe.
I need my two tiny people to be seen as fully human, not alien, not inferior.
I need my lips, hips, hair and skin to be loved, appreciated, normalized beyond a trend.
I need friends who understands the hurt and pain inflicted on me
because they see it with their own eyes,
feel it with their own heart
Not because I have taught them to see the matrices of perpetual oppressiveness
Unless you’re paying I’m not playing at convincing anybody of my rights
If they are incapable of empathizing
that they can not sympathize with
Personalize and center themselves
Deflecting complacency, complicity, implacably implicit
All jargon and respectability politics aside let humanity uphold and abide that
Black Lives Matter > white feelings,
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