white woman is a kind lady

all smiles and tulips in the morning

goes to church on sundays

or maybe not

maybe she doesn’t like churches

or maybe she’s an atheist

white woman comes in many walks of life

white woman avoids sitting next to me on the bus

gives me a strange look

perhaps i do not belong in the front

white woman is always polite with her weapons

and so we both pretend that her glares do not exist

 

white woman believes that we exist

in only one walk of life

we all walk the same

talk the same

read the same books

or do not read at all

white woman says that she read a book

that reminded her of me

“you would have written something like this,”

she says

nevermind that i do not write fiction

or novels

nevermind that the only thing

that tethers me to this book

is that it is written by a

black author with black characters.

 

 

apparently all black people hold the same

tongue too

have the same stories to tell,

i do not tell her any of this

because she might get upset

and when a flower is cut

the world always blames the person who let it die

never mind the thorns that tear at my fleshin my freshman year of highschool ,

a girl with red hair and freckles walked up to me

with that same tulip smile and said

“ you’re so nice! like, you’re black but not ‘ghetto’ black! you know what i mean?”

no i do not know what she means

she said it like it was hot off her tongue

like instinct

like, this is not the first time she has said this

i could tell  she did not expect me to be upset

i mean how could you dull that fucking tulip smile

and i didn’t.

 

white woman walks into a poetry slam

is restless in her seat

moves her hands around

like ribbon coming undone

wonders why she feels targeted

wonders why everything

always has to be be about race

nevermind that my race

could determine how easily my blood spills on pavement

nevermind that i am always coming undone

at the hands of her ignorance.

white woman makes me squirm too.

 

this poem is not about all of you

it is about those of you who are afraid of this poem

it is about those of you who aren’t used to being uncomfortable

i don’t hate you

but i need you to unravel your bad habits

we are all so sick of being polite

and smiling

and i am not sorry

for cutting you at your root

because i am just

making room for regrowth .