This is a poem speaks to the madness of white supremacy and I feel that madness right now.
It Was A Long White Night
I can not speak
I can not speak
it breaks under me cold and brittle
it cracks and turns to dust in my worn hands
the hands of a house cleaner
the hands of a woman
last night despair and maddening thirst
to know culture
what it feels like to be inside
not seeing, buying or appreciating but being
birth, life, death always belonging
like driving by the Grand Canyon or taking a picture of it
or living in that wide, deep place so that every stone
knows the rhythm of your breath
the weight of each bone set in motion
in the car next to me at the stoplight
white boys yelled, Take that stupid sign off your car!
You ugly lesbian dyke!
The sign asks How many white men were attacked after
the Oklahoma bombing for looking like Timothy McVeigh?
I had to laugh, what else can you do?
Especially at lesbian dyke as opposed to heterosexual dykes?
they were not laughing
their faces flushed red in that way white folks get
when we are angry,
we blush like that when we are making love too
but I didn’t think of that until later at home
in the bath tub, I choked on tears
while my neighbors through the apartment wall cheered on
the football game
it wasn’t their anger that got to me, I’m used to it
it was this thirst
I carry like grief
they carry like weapons.
I can not speak, whiteness
does not even use the same language
black pride means loving yourself
white pride means burning crosses
we don’t say white folks and hear home
don’t know how home might feel
we’ve lost so much
we often don’t even know
we are lost anymore
so when they ask me
I will have to say yes
yes, I know the hard set faces
of young white men
the cruel mouth spitting
the flat lean bellies
the red flush of beer and hatred
I have studied for my own survival
for the sake of sanity, angry white men
waving the flag to ward off the sky
the blue that could break something in blue eyes
and do not
as my own.