I am sometimes stunned
By the blind privilege
Of the most well meaning,
I will cry for you that you have been wronged,
But I will not do myself and others literal harm,
To make your unease go away,
I will not do so simply because you weep,
For here I am weeping because of your attack,
You are privileged from where you cry,
But you expect me give away more,
Because you speak,
Your platform is your privilege,
Your class, your skin, your gender, your orientation,
And you say this is your first time
Feeling oppressed,
As you maintain your right to do the very thing,
Of which you do complain.
Tag: ablism
“We Are All the Same”
We want to say
“We are all the same,”
And believe it with our core,
It’s the message we were taught from cut and pasted MLK,
We don’t see the whole picture
If we close our eyes and assert the truth of our sameness,
But are we all the same?
Not in experience,
I cannot say I’ve lived a day in your shoes,
To appreciate how life is as you,
Human, sentient, even then variation makes our experiences
Different,
Location, soci political climate,
Characteristics that dictate our place in it,
Social qualifiers that mark our skin, our minds, our bodies, our heritage,
And the histories behind them,
Must not be glossed over,
It must be worked through,
Recognized,
To see the truth beneath,
And the real meaning meant
Of “we are all the same”.
Leaving Master’s House
All my self doubt,
Desire to prove
My worth
Was always part of the plan,
To drive me deep into the invisible Master’s hand,
That I should feel an ache of need
Where it need not be.
But from youth
I questioned,
Reverse engineered,
Dismantled my world to try to see,
What others might find to be wrong with me,
And I backed myself into the corner,
To the planned “tragic” position,
But this time I was not alone,
In the corner I found,
“Human”,
“sentient”,
“living”,
“Organic”,
And I put a mirror up to self and surroundings,
To see the thick of oppression,
We are swimming in the deep end of,
The oppression that from birth guilts the innocent
Into assimilation,
Without their knowledge or consent;
I am in the same colonial waste as my siblings,
with differing side effects from the toxins,
My color, my pedigree, my gender, disability, sexuality
are all just ways to peg me,
But how I view them does change the game,
I have my own damn tools,
And I am leaving master’s house.
She of Letters 