“I’m fairly tolerant.” “I don’t see color.” “I’m pretty broad-minded.” “I’m the decider.” Because, if you have to say it, it’s likely not true, the previous four statements sound pretty off to me… and yet, they were said by well-intentioned people, and meant to be statements of purest truth.
During my last classroom visit, the teacher in charge made a slightly odd statement, perhaps meant to provoke the students into response. It was a deeply, deeply discomfiting statement, one which began with the statement, “I consider myself a liberal human being…” and ended with the statement that was something like but I didn’t realize black people did yoga. Unfortunately, I thought it was said in jest, and burst out laughing – only to realize no one had joined me. I could only attempt to salvage the moment and talk more in depth about the assumptions people make about people of other abilities, cultures, gender expressions, ethnicities, etc., in our country and in our world that lead to the confusions we share as human beings. It was …a moment.
I don’t see color –
(i’m better than that.) Unseen,
the people waited:
Unacknowledged, their voices.
Unheard, this story’s flip side.
the space between lines
that’s where you’ll find the story
& in the margins
(if you can’t see me, am i
your imaginary friend?)
Somoka is a form where both sides of the poem talk back to each other – and it’s supposed to form a love story. This time, it’s a missed connection…