poem by a young activist

We the people as youth of color fighting for racial equity

By, Amir Khadar

 

There is the adults table

And the kids table

We sit quietly waiting eons to sit at the adults table

And break bread with elder hands

Listen to them Drop wise cracks of wisdom

And hear of the Regimes we strive to one day break

 

There are no kids at the adults table

And our ears are still unbroken

by verses of pickled bodies sitting in the sun

 

The elders know none of us but still

Make decisions about Youth of color

when they forgot what colors we show

 

If you can’t drive through my school why are you rewriting the blueprints for my life

Making decisions from a distance is easy when

we have been born again in a system that told us we don’t matter

 

Nothing about us 

For us 

Can be done without us 

 

Working to change my future with everyone involved except me

Future movements will be built on our backs

yet our voices are unheard

Our bodies are exploited

And we never get to collect the royalties

But our voice is 10 times as sweet

But there are still movements for us

built upon excluding us

Pushing agendas we don’t care about

We are the result of segregation

Followed by improper integration

Built upon keeping us down

 

Youth Of Color have voice as colorful as our skin

And problems as unheard as our faces

 

I’m more likely to go to jail, than to get a 4 year degree

And If I’m getting 1 of the two you assume I’m not getting the other

But never bothered to ask which one I saw myself ending up as

 

If you leave us to rot in a hand me down education system

On our hand me down books

We will grow up to assume acceptable is one step from failing

Never bothered to change our future

 

You have been helping us shoot for the moon

But I never asked to go to the moon

I’m trying to get to college

 

We were left to learn to

Pioneer new boats into the media age

Thwarting the Columbus’s of our day

To park ignorant vehicles somewhere else

Don’t be Columbus

Because believe me

We can bare bloodthirsty fangs

And toss rocks with youthful grace

We have dreams of the white men stepping to the side

to make space for us too

And it makes our bodies just as excited

 

Does it not cross you

Do our voices not cry for the same freedom

Do our masses not look the same under a media microscope

Kids my age can pay bills

Translate legal papers

Take care of younger siblings

Drive

Rest on rocks where chains were supposed to hold us down

 

They are pregnant

They’re beaten

They’re shot

They’re drug addicts and crack babies

They’re in gangs that show them more love than parents

They are the excremental of a broken society

But still yet we strive

 

And some people

They still wait til we die to

Snatch our names up for hashtags

And give us the attention we earned

but never once cared about our grades

 

We are the Doctors trained in social education, the Teachers, and the learners, we are the priestesses, the gangsters, the over romantics, the black, the brown, and the native.

We are the former enslaved, the currently enslaved, we are loud, and obnoxious, and opting for change

 

I am not your inferior

The urge to one day taste justice is as alive in me as in you

 

One day, the adults will realize

they need to come sit at the kiddy table.

Taste the free lunch, and skim milk

Then fight for some change

 

IMG_5073

 

Amir Khadar is a 16 year old junior from Fridley High School, one of the many youth fighting for racial justice. Amir shared his poem at the Voices for Racial Justice rally in March, 2016. His poem is published here with his permission.