Thursday, April 21, 2011

From where I stand

You are defined as delicate

Fragile

Needing comfort

Safety

Respect

The lines of work

Labor

Pain

Survival

This does not show on your face like they show on those who live outside the margins

You remain unmarked

Mush-faced

As you sit there

Demanding

Comfort

From the world

Admiration

Relief

Praise

You ask for us

To not challenge

To keep you clean

Pure

Coddled

White

While we turn calloused

Marked

Resilient

You remain fragile

When you look at us

Are you not ashamed?

Condescending?

Scathing?

Wretched?

To only love something unless you pity

Unless you’re guilty

Unless cloaked in authority

Really

Does this make you feel

Unafraid?

We are expected

To love

Unfailingly

No matter the cost

I am told

Love.

No matter the searing of spirit

I am told

Love!

For the world

Because you ruin it

So I love with an unyielding fury inside

I love you

To keep myself alive

I. Love. You.

While you resist

And remain

Unsullied

We wait

You remain

Unsullied

We wait

You deny

You ignore

You forget

That there were some who chose

Who gave up

Who tried

Who risked

Who stood

Who died

You

You

You

You would rather be unsullied

Well now

You remain unsullied

Untouched

unsullied

YOU!

Expect me to become occupied with your concerns

While I must swallow all of mine

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Audre Lorde

Thank you Audre Lorde, this helps.

"I was going to die, sooner or later, whether or not I had even spoken myself. My silences had not protected me. Your silences will not protect you.... What are the words you do not yet have? What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day and attempt to make your own, until you will sicken and die of them, still in silence? We have been socialized to respect fear more than our own need for language."

I began to ask each time: "What's the worst that could happen to me if I tell this truth?" Unlike women in other countries, our breaking silence is unlikely to have us jailed, "disappeared" or run off the road at night. Our speaking out will irritate some people, get us called bitchy or hypersensitive and disrupt some dinner parties. And then our speaking out will permit other women to speak, until laws are changed and lives are saved and the world is altered forever.

Next time, ask: What's the worst that will happen? Then push yourself a little further than you dare. Once you start to speak, people will yell at you. They will interrupt you, put you down and suggest it's personal. And the world won't end.

And the speaking will get easier and easier. And you will find you have fallen in love with your own vision, which you may never have realized you had. And you will lose some friends and lovers, and realize you don't miss them. And new ones will find you and cherish you. And you will still flirt and paint your nails, dress up and party, because, as I think Emma Goldman said, "If I can't dance, I don't want to be part of your revolution." And at last you'll know with surpassing certainty that only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth. And that is not speaking.
"

Monday, April 4, 2011

The Sun's Rays

Little girl’s trying to chase the sun’s rays

Hoping to bag it ‘fore the lights go out

Someone told her she’s one of the sun’s chosen ones

That the sun makes sure to kiss those it loves

Someone explained,

“That’s why you’re dark skinned.”

Ever since…

She’s been trying to bag the sun’s rays

Keep it for herself to play

And to fend off those who say she should be other

Than what she is