When you live in a country
That represents the WEST
And WESTERN IDEALS
What do you with your
IDENTITY
As a coloured immigrant
From an UN-WEST country
And WESTERN ASPIRATIONS?!
Can I feel
That I am oppressed
In this world that cannot understand me—
When I have reaped
The obvious benefits
Of the PRIVILEGE of where I come from
That this world has helped create?
Who am I
To stand in indignation
Defending the UN-WEST,
From the WEST
That excludes us from THEIR heritage,
As if collaboration
And exploitation
Hadn't kept both our FOREFATHERS alive?
Who am I to feel
Jealous
Of those who will always
Feel like they belong
To this opulence
To this otherness-
Who can afford to be
Indifferent
To the dysmal
Scarring
Bitter
Divide that exists
In the UN-WEST
That THEY
Still BELONG to
In OUR memory,
But it conveniently
Doesn't in THEIRS?
This jarring otherness,
Simply named inequality,
That DOESN'T mask
The physical space it divides
Into little untidy bizzare bits
Of litter
And concrete.
Of those who can choose to be indifferent
And those who cannot.
Of those who can pontificate
And those who must find dignity
In their rough hands.
Of those who do not need permission to be human
And those who bury themselves in covers
When they mistakenly are.
Of those who do not need words
And those who have them barely.
My UN-WEST
That gave me
The unfair advantage
To feel indignant
To feel pride
To feel othered
In a space
That creates the
Unfamiliar feeling of being
UNPRIVILEGED
But an all too familiar feeling of being
SEEN and UNSEEN
All at once.
My UN-WEST,
That's cut me
In so many
Different pieces
And layers
That I’m bound and
Culled and
Crushed and
Offended by it
And its
Self-congratulation
Of false preservation.
My UN-WEST,
Of so many BROTHERS and sisters,
That feels discomfort
In ALL that is
IN-BETWEEN.
My UN-WEST
That likes to pretend
Only those who conform
Are the real insiders.
As if smugness
And apathy
Respects any boundaries.
Ah!
How good it feels
To feel like
The world
Is against me
And I am the courageous one
Fighting against all odds
To be nothing like any of THEM.
How offended I feel
When they say
I am WESTERN
Or UN-WESTERN
As if
My fight
Doesn’t rest on the shoulders
Of the WEST and the UN-WEST
I unsteadily and righteously stand upon.
As if
I do not crave
To belong
SOMEWHERE
ANYWHERE
Where I am not ashamed of
Who I am.
That represents the WEST
And WESTERN IDEALS
What do you with your
IDENTITY
As a coloured immigrant
From an UN-WEST country
And WESTERN ASPIRATIONS?!
Can I feel
That I am oppressed
In this world that cannot understand me—
When I have reaped
The obvious benefits
Of the PRIVILEGE of where I come from
That this world has helped create?
Who am I
To stand in indignation
Defending the UN-WEST,
From the WEST
That excludes us from THEIR heritage,
As if collaboration
And exploitation
Hadn't kept both our FOREFATHERS alive?
Who am I to feel
Jealous
Of those who will always
Feel like they belong
To this opulence
To this otherness-
Who can afford to be
Indifferent
To the dysmal
Scarring
Bitter
Divide that exists
In the UN-WEST
That THEY
Still BELONG to
In OUR memory,
But it conveniently
Doesn't in THEIRS?
This jarring otherness,
Simply named inequality,
That DOESN'T mask
The physical space it divides
Into little untidy bizzare bits
Of litter
And concrete.
Of those who can choose to be indifferent
And those who cannot.
Of those who can pontificate
And those who must find dignity
In their rough hands.
Of those who do not need permission to be human
And those who bury themselves in covers
When they mistakenly are.
Of those who do not need words
And those who have them barely.
My UN-WEST
That gave me
The unfair advantage
To feel indignant
To feel pride
To feel othered
In a space
That creates the
Unfamiliar feeling of being
UNPRIVILEGED
But an all too familiar feeling of being
SEEN and UNSEEN
All at once.
My UN-WEST,
That's cut me
In so many
Different pieces
And layers
That I’m bound and
Culled and
Crushed and
Offended by it
And its
Self-congratulation
Of false preservation.
My UN-WEST,
Of so many BROTHERS and sisters,
That feels discomfort
In ALL that is
IN-BETWEEN.
My UN-WEST
That likes to pretend
Only those who conform
Are the real insiders.
As if smugness
And apathy
Respects any boundaries.
Ah!
How good it feels
To feel like
The world
Is against me
And I am the courageous one
Fighting against all odds
To be nothing like any of THEM.
How offended I feel
When they say
I am WESTERN
Or UN-WESTERN
As if
My fight
Doesn’t rest on the shoulders
Of the WEST and the UN-WEST
I unsteadily and righteously stand upon.
As if
I do not crave
To belong
SOMEWHERE
ANYWHERE
Where I am not ashamed of
Who I am.
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