What’s Left?

When my body is equated to property I am diminished. When his body means less than broken glass or a bag of cash something is wrong. 

We've let the wound fester too long. Without the the right care, without proper treatment. This country slapped a bandaid on 400 years of systematic oppression. Slapped a bandaid on piles of bodies. Slapped a bandaid on broken families.

This country hides behind a colorblind nationalism - saying we are ALL American, we are ALL human, we ALL matter. BUT DO WE?

The ease with which you can say my color no longer matters, that my history is irrelevant disgusts me. You work so hard to erase the past of my ancestors without taking the time to remember. To see my pain, my tears, my fears. To acknowledge that we are here and refuse be displaced. 

Listening to my narrative should not make you uncomfortable. When you close your ears, when you shut off your minds, when you close off your hearts to our words, to our peaceful actions, we are left with no choice but destruction.

Do you hear me now? Can you see me now? Me. I am angry, I am black, I am a woman, I am queer. But I refuse to beg for your recognition any longer. 

When our words fail to penetrate and when our silence is mocked. When your mere existence threatens my life. What's left but violence?