Pride

By S. Byrne | Observer Contributor

I’d love to applaud our progress
to say that we, as a society, as a country, as a nation
have come together to make all people feel welcome
to ensure that everyone knows that
“All lives matter,” as they like to say

I would love to stop talking about
“The issues of the past”
to stop
“Bringing up the mistakes of [our] ancestors”
to not have to have any discussion
regarding race or ethnicity with children

I would love to pretend that things are good
that all people are treated equally
that things have improved

I would love to be proud that my white mother fell in love with
had a child with
A black man
I would love to be proud that that was not a problem
But wasn’t it?

I would love to be proud
that I, a mixed child,
was able to go to school
in a predominantly white district,
free of segregation.
But was it?

I would love to be proud
to have grown up in a caring, close-knit community
Of understanding individuals, accepting of all people
But I didn’t.

How can I feel pride
when I was shamed for looking different
from the day I stepped foot in kindergarten?
How can I feel comfortable
when I was openly told by my peers
that they weren’t allowed to hang out around me?
How can I feel safe
when I was told by school administrators, often
that I was merely a “bad kid”
that any mistake was expected behavior of
“Someone like me”

How can I feel self-love
when I spent years being compared to animals?
When I was told it was no big deal when pleading for help?
How can I love my curls
when I spent years being told they look like
SOS pads
when I can remember the feel of peers tugging on my heart
when I can still hear their laughter, still feel my hot tears?
How can I understand my culture
when I cannot recall ever once studying
African American history in any capacity beyond slavery?

How am I to feel when
at the mere mention of slavery
every head in class turns to look
at the one colored student with frizzy hair

Is this our past?
How could it be, when it is so clearly our present as well?

I would love to be proud of my mother and father
but the problem is no longer their relationship alone but
encompasses the result:
The children
They are not the problem alone
the problem continues when they dared to bring
another colored child into this country

I would love to be proud that I was able to go to school
in an age where there is no formal segregation
but the prejudices that adults held in their hearts
had me feeling depressed, alone
guilty and worthless
from a young age

I would love to have had the small town experience others claim to
have had
the close knit community
the sense of belonging
but I didn’t.
It was made quite clear that I didn’t belong
that I was not welcome
I was ever an outsider.

I am twenty-seven years old.
I do not know how to wear my hair naturally
and I don’t know that I ever will
My curls, my full lips, my wide nose, my tan skin
The things I was most bullied for
are things I could never change
and will always feel insecure about

Over 10 years ago, my mental health was so bad, i dropped out of
school
It has taken 10 years of healing to think myself beautiful
It has taken 10 years to think myself worthy
It has taken 10 years to realize that I am not alone

I don’t care if talking about racism makes you uncomfortable
If it does, then it should

I am twenty-seven years old, and even after all my self work
I am still not proud

If I am not proud of me
and all the effort I have put in to reverse the damages
wrought by inconsiderate, racist individuals

Why on earth would I be proud of those same individuals for doing
Nothing at all?