shit people say to mixed people

dear white people:
i don't understand how you can think
asking me "what are you" isn't fucking insulting!
especially when it's the second thing you've ever
said to me after finding out my name

what are you.
and when i say
"excuse me"
please understand
that i heard you and
am giving you a chance
to give it up
know this. i
don't mean follow up with
"no, i mean, like
where are you from?"
because i'm going
to answer california
and when you follow up
with "no like, what
nationality are you"
and I say American
I would think that after
three strikes
you would get the point
but for some reason.

for some reason,
you keep going.
"where are your parents from?"
"no, like, what is your race?"
"ethnicity."
"cultural background."
"like, where are your ancestors from?"

presumably the same place as yours, motherfucker!
really tho.

and i can't get too mad because if I honestly asked you
what you were really asking
you wouldn't know and
it's just curiosity
why the animosity

"oh, i don't mean to be, like, offensive."
you know what? most people don't.
most people don't try to be racist either
but you fuckers
keep on
asking me
these questions

what gave you the idea that
you have the right to know this about me?

i'm sorry, white people but
i don't have the desire
nor the obligation
to divulge that personal information
so please go away
and label and categorize
some other ambiguously ethnic
person of color


because i've had enough for
right now
and it might not feel like that's what
you're doing
but that's exactly what you're doing?

you have been trained since birth to know who is
and who is not a white person
and of course the rules have changed
over the years but you get me.
and then here i come.
blowin up your binary.
that's what you're doing.
getting to the core of the issue:
are you white or not?
and guess what.
that feels exactly as you might expect it to
had you come out and said
"excuse me, are you white?
because I want to know whether
I should feel in-group solidarity with you
or tap into my irrational fear of difference."

and that's not all y'all say.

which one of your parents is black?
your dad? yeah i thought so.

how did you do that to your hair?
it's natural? come on.
no i mean, like, did you perm it?
do you curl your hair every morning?
can i touch it?
oh my god it's so springy.

if you're half and half
then why did you say "half-black"
instead of "half-white?"
do you like your black side
better?

your dad's black? is he like, a gangsta?
does he wear like, ice?

do you ever wish you were full white?
do you ever wish you were full black?

so - is the bottom half
the black half?

you look middle eastern.
you look mexican.
you look colombian.

you know what. i don't think blacks and whites
should ever have had kids.
it's too confusing for 'em.

that last one stung.
motherfucker told me to my face
that i'd be better off having
not been born.

you know what's crazy though?
That conversation happened once
and motherfucker was kind of an
extremist.
The worst thing about
being mixed is that
i deal with this every fucking day.

and it makes me feel like motherfucker was right.

i don't wanna fall in love again

something like

am dm em em

c f g f 

i don't wanna fall in love again
cuz i don't wanna die
gotta feeling like another round of this heartbreak will
squeeze the little life left in me dry

and i know that i have done you wrong
confess my bitter failure to the sky
if anyone is listening, though i doubt it, well, one still can hope
that someone, anyone will reply

you are worthy of the promise you've been given
the past is nothing take all your regrets
bundle them with defeat and intransigence
strive forward until you have nothing left

but what's a silly hope in something greater
all around me is just frailty and defect
poverty, war and politics remind me that i don't mean shit
what more of myself could i expect

that i am worthy of the promise i've been given
the past is nothing take all my regrets
bundle them with defeat and intransigence
strive forward until i have nothing left

i want to believe that i can love again
free from the burden of my mistakes
i want to know i'm not my inadequacy
to hear trusted lover softly say

you are worthy of the promise you've been given
the past is nothing take all your regrets
bundle them with defeat and intransigence
strive forward until you have nothing left

hurt people

we all know that
hurt people
hurt people and a
hurt person's worth is
perverted from
serving people
to bringing em down

i've never been
so in love
with a place or a name that
an affront to that space has
justified causing pain
never had to save face
never had so much to gain

but then again
i've never been required by law
to live
in the colored district

if my father
had grown up in seattle
he would've

if he and his first wife had
getting a place together would have
been illegal
as recent as fucking 1968 -
the year they got married.

and so
because domination is paternalistic
so is internalized
racist
territorialism.

location, location, location.

gentrification doesn't work both ways though
white people in the colored district
don't hang your heads
this is a free country
free market
better prices, better neighborhoods
the last few generations of white families want
neighborhoods with diversity
with culture

but 23rd and union is not
lower capitol hill!
but as we motherfuckers with
our vegan queer co-op houses
open up shop all up and down 23rd
going further and further south
guess where the black people are going?

i guess i can't understand roots
because i've never had chains
when you're attached to your
forty acres

you get attached to them

i can't understand violence as an answer
because i haven't been asking the right questions

what does home
mean to me
and how much
is it worth?

and when it
hurts
so deep
you can't see your feet and
your fear is a foil to your
humanists' streak -
what makes the difference
between the fierce and the meek?
between those who would soothe
their hurt by loving
and those who amplify the impact
of their suffering
by spreading it to others?

someone once told me
namaste - your hurt is my hurt
aloha - your hurt is my hurt
ubuntu - your hurt is my hurt

you don't have to hurt me
because i felt it when you did.

so what's up with you kid?

two kids.
it's stupid;
enter the central district
one kid leaves,
bruised, battered and bleeding
asphalt and leaves
in his hair
to complement the cracked ribs

and this is what hurt kids do
and i ain't felt it
but let me tell you, kid
i hurt too

liberation

i think about all of the things that we will never do
and know that it won't be the same without you
hot air balloons and travels east
a five-year plan reduced to three
i still love you but that ain't enough is it?
sometimes the right decision feels like shit

and now we sleep alone again, crying two rooms apart
my friends tell me that fucking heals a broken heart
i haven't been rejected, though
freedom won't seem to let me go
i still love you but that ain't enough is it?
sometimes the right decision feels like shit

i have no illusions of
finding someone better for me
if this is liberation
give me back my lock and key

you were perfect for me

elijah

daddy daddy tell me tell me what's that in your arm
why you why you actin' crazy
why you yellin' at my mom
why you leavin don't you go
why you throwin' up your hands
don't you leave me don't you leave
you gotta teach me how to be a man
and i know you had it rough
or at least
i know you think you did
but i always thought you said
you'd never do that to your own kids
OK
gramma didn't do right
OK
she made her own mistakes
but was remorseful was resourceful
at least she put food on your plate
at least she tried
and yeah she lied
but never resigned herself to her fate so
so daddy daddy while you're out there gettin' crazy
and rebelling at the world
please don't forget don't forget
back at home
your baby boy and little girl?