I’m exhausted of tolerating your, wait how do we say this in a way we comply with your white privilege –B U L L S H I T. That IF the colour of our skin is nothing less than cocaine, we’re not acceptable, self-injecting yourself with an ounce of pure xenophobia. Cracked on hate, doped on destruction. I’m frustrated with you looking at me as if I’m cancer.

Walking down the street wearing our brown skin, black hijab, afroed up eyes gazed on us like we are animals at a zoo, liked from a distanced shot if we get too close. We are physically and mentally braking, but we stand up straight a new day, a new battle– you ask what racism? It is 2018! Talking to us as if we’re absurd, hiding your Christopher Columbus shrine, worshipping racism behind a glass wall. But we see you; the chants are loud. They are getting louder.

To answer your question I’ll tell you what racism, revise what your CEO’s, directors and power-players have in common– they don’t have the ‘burden’ of ‘wearing’ our brown skin. With a name that you can’t pronounce in comparison with ‘Mr Smith’ only ‘working’ at average, be sure to use the word ‘working’ loosely because with a name like ‘Mr. Smith’ success is a birth-right. Congratulations on your lifelong express pass.

“You can jail a Revolutionary, but you can’t jail the Revolution.” ― Fred Hampton

The little girl inside of me keeps telling me ‘come on you got this.’cheerleading me on, ‘Ignore what they say, you’re better than them.’ But her voice is becoming a whisper, and they’re silencing her, captivating her by their greed by their hate. My father warned me about spoilt children he said enough is never enough, they want their cake and want us to feed them. Scared of us succeeding.

We ask politely; please stop. You say you’re too busy.

We say hear us out, please. You shout you’ll get back to us in three to five working days.

We shout. You shoot.

How do we know? Because Linda Sarsour asked politely, Malcolm X demand to be heard, and you shot Fred Hampton before he could shout. Like it’s a game, but the only Game I’m playing is Dream, ‘We the future.’

Move over our brown skin is coming, climbing the same ladders as you because this isn’t 1950’s anymore.

‘Know that your voice does matter. There are different ways to be an activist and there are different forms of activism, Art is activism. Writing is activism. Find your activism and don’t let anyone tell you what that should look like. And know that you are not alone. We are fighting for you and alongside you. When you make your voice heard, we’re gonna be even louder on your behalf. We’ve got you. I promise we do’

(Anige Thomas from her book – The Hate u Give)

 

Written by angelykhan

Freelance Journalist

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