Fate Is Like A Raindrop

Fate is like a raindrop that struck the top of the Empire State Building.

No one was there to see it.  No one heard it, but it still occurred.

Fate is like a warning shot that really isn’t a warning but a death toll screaming for a Latino’s back as he just tries to escape the pressing hate of a country that said “Welcome” with “Bienvenidos” right next to it.

My country.  Land of the free.

Stuck in a box of labels and red tape that only the rich have the golden scissors to cut and am I one to talk?

Born on predestined terms and prerequisites that if I did not match the paper cut out doll….I was tossed out.

I was the blonde haired, blue eyed, white baby girl, I was the image of a the 21st century.  Fate was on my side I guess, my only fault I am a woman-child, stuck between an era of women’s rights and real equality. 

So what is fate but the pre-determined stereotypes that we “Americans” have gotten away with for so long.

I saw fate on the news when a man who called himself patriotic killed a boy for a box of skittles and in his eyes, I saw the blood.

The blood of thousands. Millions. Billions. Lives that we “knew” were meant to “fail.”

Nevertheless, one white boy is kidnapped off a bus and we decide we as Americans we have to go on a jihad against guns.

Jihad, holy war, and they only got our attention when they knocked two giants down.

We had been burning, murdering, martyring them and someone rose to the occasion to tell them that they did not have to take our bullshit anymore.  Not that I condone their actions but can you blame them?

Every moment that an African child starves, we sit back and enjoy our star bucks

Because we were BORN American, not made like our grandparents or great-grandparents.  Not made like those who are told day in and day out that America is going to be better and buy their ticket across a boarder or an ocean.

As BORN Americans, we have the birthright to relaxation and comfort.

Well unless you are Native American, African America, Japanese American, Hmong American, Jewish American, and any other label that rolls off your tongue with the American to make it sound refined.

Fate is what brought me to the realization that I have not and will not be anything greater than that child dying of aids, or that mother struggling to raise five kids because the father ditched, or the 20 year old boy man that struggles to find a place of employment because he couldn’t get through tech school.  What in me demands that I get the high road?

Was it my fate?

If I had been born to a North Korean family looking the way I do I would be a little monster.

We play fate with our fake equality and pressed delusions of grandeur.

Fate was the raindrop hitting the tip of the Empire State Building.  Nobody heard it.  Nobody Saw it.

But I promise you.  Everyone heard the thunder.


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