No Justice

Sometimes I’m ashamed to be white.
Don’t get me wrong,
I’m proud of my heritage.
My ancestors are survivors.
Of wars and famines.
They struggled to build lives.
I’m proud to come from them.

But being white.
White people.
So much hate has come from us.
And for what? Pigments?
That today, in 2013,
That hate still lives.

You see it in little things,
Like a confederate flag
Masquerading as “states rights”
And in bigger things
Like murdering a child.

I can be sketchy.
I can be suspicious.
I have literally walked around town
At night. In a hoodie. Up to no good.
Armed with an Arizona and candy.
But nobody ever followed me.
Called the cops on me.
Confronted me.

Because I’m white.

“Oh, he’s not doing anything wrong.
No need to worry about him.
No need to call the cops on him
Follow him around
Confront him
Provoke him
Murder him.

Oh he’s white. No need to worry. ”

If I was black, every day of my life would be different.
That is wrong.
That is damn wrong.

And the worst part is that I have no idea what to do about it.


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