A nurse at the orthodontist’s office accidentally
pokes my lip with the end of a wire. She
tells me “Did it hurt?”
“That’s okay, it didn’t bleed.”
It ended up bleeding when I got home.
People push me to my limits
but it’s okay if I don’t bleed right?
It’s okay because it doesn’t leave a permanent mark right?
A white man calls an Asian American activist
“racist” and “sexist” because it’s only
okay if we’re racist and sexist towards minorities right?
You start to mess with the power the majority
has and only then do they scream “oppression”
when they ignore the cries of the people who are actually oppressed.
It’s okay if you have sex with someone who says
no as long as they said yes the first time right?
It’s okay if you hurt someone as long as
they don’t stand up for themselves right?
It’s okay to hit someone as long as you don’t
leave a visible mark right?
It’s okay to do morally questionable things
as long as nobody calls you out on it
We have taught that silence is consent
to be oppressed, to be abused, to be raped,
this poem is calling you out on your bullshit
and telling you that I’m tired of staying quiet.
5:24 p.m. (The oppressed apparently need to scream to get anyone to listen)
creds go to fallaciesingalaxies for helping me finish up this poem.
Being the child of immigrants is to have one foot in the world your parents come from, and another in the world that contains your friends and peers. You are submerged in the freedoms of the new world and the traditions of the old. But more often than not, I find that regardless of how hard I try to straddle the line between these two worlds, I don’t feel that I belong in either.
When white people click anon:
When white people forget to click anon: