Ta-wa-na

The girk who cries racism,
That’s me,
Apparently,
‘Your kind’ always brings race into it,
They tell me,
britain’s not racist,
They tell me,
As they denounce my britishness,
Because it’s citizenship by blood,
Not citizenship by soil,
They dissect my name,
Ta-wa-na,
‘That can’t be british’,
They say,
If they only knew,
I use my middle name
To make it easier for you,
But because I cry racism,
I don’t assimilate,
They tell me to go back to a land I don’t know,
A land my parents fled from,
Guarded me from,
So I could assimilate,
So I could have better life,
In a glorious country my family built,
They ask me why I’m here,
But they don’t know
When they look at their streets
When they look at their buildings
When they look at their wealth
They don’t know my family built it, and my family’s reward was to be grateful
that we are allowed into such a glorious country,
The glorious country
My family built.
They don’t know.
They refuse to know.

-Tawana

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About the Poet-

Tawana is a writer from England who has been honing her craft since the age of 15 but only recently started taking it seriously. She has a multitude of thoughts that she finds difficult to articulate through speaking, so she writes them down to prevent feeling overwhelmed.