Heritage
DNA
Took the test
Found my way
Questioning
Be Okay
Mixed Race
Or
Mixed Rage?
Which space
To Engage?
I clear my head
And burn the sage
*Inhale*
And as its burning,
I breathe,
I picture a tree, bark carved of gold,
Standing strong with blackened roots…
Traveling across
Generations and Places,
Races and Faces,
And feelings… fingerprints… foundations…
Stretched far that fail to fade and fill and fuel me with this
Inexplicable, untouched sense of fate.
*Exhale*
It took me a while to get here
Like my ancestors, I travelled
But instead of footsteps heavy in mud… and grass… and green,
Forced halfway across the earth, scattered… sold… unseen,
My journey was instead the internal kind
Unbinding my mind from a more mental kind of slavery
I’m not afraid to say it took bravery
To confront the internalised displacement of being
A house without a home
My hair without a comb
A Black Body unable to roam
I’ve been questioning
Why is it
We aren't given the right to reflect on our roots?
Our history so whitewashed
Our curriculum so colonised
Our differing identities thoughtlessly squashed
Our stories so silenced and revised
Our connections severed at no cost
Our every move always analysed
As I write my frustrations
Reflecting on causations
And my anger at this nation
It’s ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ creation
The rising dictations
An ugly mutation
Of our lack of narration
From voices like me…
So many voices unheard
So many stories to read
So many traditions unknown
So many generations unseen
Yes, as I write and write I’m writing
Let’s face it - angrily typing
I take a step back to pause, to dare to think and imagine
To internally manifest and dream and realistically fathom;
What would real, diverse representation of our multicultural heritage look like?
What if spaces for us by us were properly funded and what conversations would strike?
What would happen if our local communities took real steps to make space for us?
What if the curriculum was decolonised, expanded and properly discussed?
What if more statues were torn down and replaced with our faces?
What if governments returned stolen artifacts therefore our heritage retraces?
What if we swapped out Cecil Rhodes for Martin, Angela or Maya?
What if we burned down this authoritarian system in one big, fat, (fucking) fire?
What if DNA tests weren’t commercialised, but accessible and free?
What if there were more people high up and involved that looked something like me?
What if Britain finally decided to own up to its damaging roles and dark past?
What if poems like these or our expansive art in general were really and truly broadcast?
So, finally,
I ask you
To take in this poem as you please
Take the ideas home with you,
Hear them whisper in the breeze
Take your time to think it through
It is not always done with ease
And maybe, someday, somehow, somewhere
A new world we can seize.
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