I first heard the word terrorist when I was nine My mother took me out of class because A post-9/11 world was not safe for me “Your classmates love you but they don’t know the hate they are going to learn” Because soon the brown nosing jokes will go away And the racism will be here to stay It’s not like you were safe to begin with We just had hopes for this country And isn’t that how so many people of colour ended up here? We had hopes for this country But they didn’t tell them at the beginning of the Underground Railroad That we just have different words for “racism” That the people who were here long before the British showed up were not savages but creators That our politeness is actually a stifling silence against acknowledging our colonial roots, xenophobic musings, and racist undertones That we think of the word multicultural as a mosaic And not stepping stones Nine people are dead in Charleston and we can’t even use the words “hate crime” let alone “terrorist” But maybe it’s because if we label this shooter a terrorist The whole country will have to acknowledge the terror that I feel Every time I go to an airport A border crossing A hospital A place of worship A playground An unlit street My mother named me to be the one who listens My middle name means the one who carries the sorrows of her people And I feel that’s all I’ve done since I’ve awaken I’ve only got so many baskets I can fill with sobs Maybe God put salt in our tears so that we could preserve ourselves But somewhere we lost the idea of only tossing stones if we are judgment free Even that ideal seems too far away As I’m still waiting for the day When I’m judge by my character And not the caricatures given to people with my skin What can I say; We had hopes for this country.
“Multicultural”, Samantha Estoesta
