White Privilage
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This poem is for that White bitch who is saying that racism do not exist.
This poem is Because your blond hair, no te permite sentir como es estar shamed of your fro, and trying to change just because you really want belong somewhere.
Gina Napolitano
Cotton
Your crosses are covered in blood.
Not the blood of Christ,
But the blood that oozes from brown skin.
Winter isn’t just coming
It’s here.
And it is all I hear about.
“Everything is cold,” you say,
Everything is wet,
Everything is slow!”
But you know
There’s something to this business of being slow.
