White Girl

Ok, so for a little bit of background.

First, I teach at a school for Youth in Custody of the state and students at Risk in our district.  I work with kids who have been in gangs, dealt drugs, committed theft, and other various crimes.  Many of my students are not white.  Most of them grew up in poverty and don’t even realize it.

Second, our Sociology teacher is currently teaching a unit on Race, Class, and Gender.  One of his assignments is to have students write their own poem about Race, Class, or Gender.  He shows them Russell Simmons’ HBO television show Brave New Voices. Check it out, it is amazing.  In the show, teens across the US compete in what is called “Poetry Slams.”

Anyways, since I like to write poetry, I thought I would write a “poetry slam” style poem to my students about my race.  Here it is.  (I normally have all sorts of indents and what not, but I can’t figure out the formatting in wordpress)

—-

White girl
White guuurrrllll
WHITE girl.

That’s what you call me.
You call me by my color,
or lack thereof.

You tell me I don’t know what life is like.
You tell me I don’t understand
living on the streets
dealing drugs to make ends meet
dodging bullets
supporting babies
doing time.

You tell me I don’t know racism
to be pulled over by a cop because my skin is too dark
to be watched in every store I go to
to be considered the “bad” kid.

Well, you want to know what I have to say?
Do you?
Well, do you?

I say . . .
You’re right.

I don’t know.
I don’t understand.
I don’t live your life
speak your words
deal drugs
dodge bullets
raise children while being a child myself
or even listen to your music.

My world and yours are separate
divided
segregated still
by income, class, and race.

I spent my afternoons in high school
doing homework
studying for the ACT
writing college entrance essays
serving vanilla ice cream
going to football games
and Proms.

Oh, the prom – dancing, dinner, holding hands in white satin gloves,

While your dancing was done on street corners and in alley ways to
hip hop
rap
and R & B

White girl
White guuurrrllll
WHITE girl.

That’s what you call me.

And in the end, I don’t mind.
I know I’m different
I know I’ll never understand.
How could I?