I’m sorry people who look like me hurt you,

I’m sorry people who look like me whipped you,

I’m sorry people who look like me took away your freedom,

I’m sorry people who look like me brought pain and anguish daily,

I’m sorry people who look like me traded you like livestock,

                And laughed over the sweat of your labor,

I’m sorry people who look like me believe in separate but equal,

                As you cleaned their homes,

I’m sorry people who look like me believe in separate and not equal,

                And hung you from the tree,

I’m sorry people who look like me still cannot see that racism still exists,

                In the prison community,

                In the job community,

                In the impoverished community,

When instead of the white man’s burden you wanted a friend.

 

I’m sorry people who pray like me cast you away,

I’m sorry people who pray like me put you in camps,

I’m sorry people who pray like me called it a crusade,

I’m sorry people who pray like me believe they can tell if you are a terrorist,

                By your looks,

I’m sorry people who pray like me believe it’s a choice to be gay,

                Even though they were excused from having to choose to be straight,

                Even though you were scared the whole time being confused,

                Even though seeing people being murdered for it would surely deter a choice,

I’m sorry people who pray like me have such an easy time condemning others,

When instead they should be looking inwards with their God.

 

I’m sorry people of my gender are so power hungry,

                That they give so much resistance to equality,

I’m sorry people of my gender blame the victim for what she deserved,

                That she had it coming when she decided to go out dressed like that,

I’m sorry people of my gender find it very easy to say “protect life from conception…”

                When they carry none of the burden,

I’m sorry people of my gender reduce you to objects and make molds for you to conform to,

I’m sorry people of my gender never had to be told when to speak,

                But they have no problem telling you yours,

 

I’m sorry I am so easily associated with so much evil,

But I am not one of them,

I am not one of them,

I am not one of them,

Won’t you hear me?

I am not one of them.

 

If I shout from my lungs I am not one of them,

Does it matter?

If I hold out my hand to shake yours as an equal,

Will it help?

If I joke with you in conversation,

Will you still compare me?

If I ask you your name,

Won’t you ask me mine?

And see me as an individual,

Who is not one of them.

Or will nothing quench the anger inside?

                From the injustice,

                From the jests,

                From the years of dominance which drove you to hate

                                Who you are,

                                Who you pray too,

                                Your differences.

If only fiery wrath and judgment of a divine scale will suffice,

                I’m sorry,

                                But I am not one of them.