I first heard the word terrorist when I was nine My mother took me out of class because A post-9/11 world was not safe for me âYour classmates love you but they donât know the hate they are going to learnâ Because soon the brown nosing jokes will go away And the racism will be here to stay Itâs not like you were safe to begin with We just had hopes for this country And isnât that how so many people of colour ended up here? We had hopes for this country But they didnât tell them at the beginning of the Underground Railroad That we just have different words for âracismâ That the people who were here long before the British showed up were not savages but creators That our politeness is actually a stifling silence against acknowledging our colonial roots, xenophobic musings, and racist undertones That we think of the word multicultural as a mosaic And not stepping stones Nine people are dead in Charleston and we canât even use the words âhate crimeâ let alone âterroristâ But maybe itâs because if we label this shooter a terrorist The whole country will have to acknowledge the terror that I feel Every time I go to an airport A border crossing A hospital A place of worship A playground An unlit street My mother named me to be the one who listens My middle name means the one who carries the sorrows of her people And I feel thatâs all Iâve done since Iâve awaken Iâve only got so many baskets I can fill with sobs Maybe God put salt in our tears so that we could preserve ourselves But somewhere we lost the idea of only tossing stones if we are judgment free Even that ideal seems too far away As Iâm still waiting for the day When Iâm judge by my character And not the caricatures given to people with my skin What can I say; We had hopes for this country.
âMulticulturalâ, Samantha Estoesta















