I am quiet

I never raise my hand,

When I know the answer I whisper it,

Hoping the classmate next to me will say it on demand.

My quietness effects the clothes I wear

I am labeled that I do not care.

They never see me in my Queen shirt or with my afro reaching the stars.

They say I am not girly enough,

But that doesn’t matter to me

Because I know that is who they are.

Though it all Somehow, they know my name 

And that is the key.

Everything else is irrelevant to me.

I live in two universes

Only some are graced to see

I am quite annoying when it comes

To being me.

I get my point across one way or another

I stand at my podium running meeting like I am someone’s mother

I cannot be missed

That is my job

I will not be dismissed

Because I sit tall.

So I talk about action, what I want to do in my community

Educate students to show them that there is something in the world to see.

I love helping them read or figuring out basic math.

But when I leave them, I am sitting back in class.

I am back to school me

Wearing an oversized jacket.

Scared to raise her hand

But this is not an act of defiance.

It is just who I am.

I forget others don’t know

Especially when

Some teachers say something slick

They just let the words roll.

Something about how us black kids aren’t worth it.

They are dead wrong and they know.

And somehow without me knowing my Malcolm X quotes start flowing.

My Alice Walker and Maya Angelou are awakened

Leaving the whole class shaken.

They get quite just like me

No comments are made

No words to apologize

So, all they can do is

Like and subscribe.


This poem is about: 


C and a W


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