White Privilege

I am privileged

I could get caught with my hand in the cookie jar, and blame it on the very color of chip I was trying to steal,

And they’d believe me.

They, being our enforcers,

But they aren’t our enforcers,

They are my officers,

They protect my gated community,

I have immunity,

Whether my community is gated or not.

I grew up with a lawn ornament who exhaled cocaine,

And I can get away with mass genocide

I have gotten away with mass genocide

I am the void, the blankness of pages

Our stories aren’t told,

Because they do nothing for our image.

Black ink spills onto the paper,

Ruining our purity, and fighting for territory,

Until you consume each other with what we call pen on pen violence

My brothers and sisters are sick if they harm you,

But you are a hardened criminal.

Don’t you know not to get into bed with us?

My alabaster skin is too much of a beacon of hope to encompass myself in your darkness,

And this milk will mix with no cocoa puff,

You are the color of dirt.

You are the mud pie my mother told me not to play with,

And her mother, and her mother’s mother.

I was taught to believe that if I mingled, that mess underneath my fingernails would never go away

That mess underneath your fingernails from years of digging your own graves,

And for all of those years you were our slaves,

Nothing belongs to you but that.

We have taken your religion, and have saved you with our own,

But we will not accept you into our homes.

Your only talent is to scare us, to put our backs against the wall,

And force us to minimize your population.

But we will take your entertainers, your comedians, and your singers, hell throw in some actors,

And claim the ideas as our own, the music as our own, the jokes as our own.

Elvis is a great, and all white men dance that way

Sir Mix A lot wrote a song to get Iggy Azaela’s attention, but it never worked.

I have evolved from shackles to chains around your neck, having you dance for my entertainment.

The same rich white men keeping you in containment.

Why does your hair stand up like that?

Is it because you are constantly at war to protect who you are,

So you stand at attention to remind yourself you can never sleep.

Or does it make it easier to look over your shoulder,

Nothing obstructing your view, hoping one day you will be privy to our attacks?

You won’t see us coming.

I have evolved from a whip, to the little voice in your head,

I know how to keep you down.

I am a microscopic bug whispering micro aggressions too quiet for anyone but all of you to hear

I am SO privileged.

I will wear your clothes and jock your style, and walk with your swagger,

But only I will get hired, while you get told, you do not look professional.

Employers dread the thought of you, and think you are anything but natural,

But tell me, why don’t you work?

My taxes pay for your existence, and although this land you built,

You owe me the lives of your grandchildren.

Much like the god we shared with you, we will not show mercy for your shortcomings.

Contribute to this society that degrades you and cages you like animals,

Or we will make a facebook meme of your welfare queen.

Unemployed we are more than happy you continue our cycle.

Keep selling our white powder to give us something to incriminate you for.

That is why we created it.

It doesn’t matter that your women are independent,

Because we will forever have their sons.

The smile of your women could cause a revolution,

So we must break their hearts.

We will fill their bellies with watermelon and chicken,

And tear you away while she is distracted, because we couldn’t get her to listen

Fall in line submissive little soldier, while my skin gives off a glisten

Keep my image clean

Get down on your hands and knees, so that I can ride your back to success

Riding my pony, being my ticket will make your life not completely worthless

But i will offer you no thanks.

I am not in the business of negotiating with terrorists

My life matters, and you know what will happen if i claim to fear for it.

I will stick my hand in the cookie jar, and blame the color of the chip I was trying to steal.

I have already stolen you from her.

I am SO VERY privleged.

But i will not get the privilege of learning who you could have been

I will not have the privilege of how lucky I am in the light, because I will never have to suffer your darkness.

I will never have the privilege of learning your mother’s smile, as I have only ever made her angry.

I will miss out on the privilege of seeing a world where we understood each other.

These privileges easily trump any that I have now, and I would gladly give up any of them, for even one of these.