Things They Don't Understand
A poem about being a black girl abroad and at home.
things they don't understand
walking into a room and feeling searing eyes
being denied service at the door in hong kong
showcasing my work to blank eyes, glossing over my heartbeat, but never stopping to listen
never feeling beautiful because of my wiry hair
professors always telling me to make projects about what it was like to be black
when on most days i'm tired of talking about it
the teasing because i didn't listen to rap
the judgment when i started listening to rap, but it wasn't their rap
mocked because of my proper speaking
outrage because i'd never eaten a chitlin
defeat, as I came to terms with maybe being black just, wasn't for me.