Being Political, a poem by Jean M. Hodges


My name is political

Because from the moment we could choose, we’ve been setting our own syllables against checks and balances-

-What will our neighbors think?-

Of most fun and least ghetto,

As if our own history would seep into our nomenclature and brand us with yet another cross to carry.

My hair is political,

Because it doesn’t match up with the standards of spaghetti strands you fashion on your own head,

But why would clouds match with spaghetti strands,

When they are too busy defying gravity to notice?

My body is political,

Because it used to be bought and sold,

And now that I’m no longer a commodity,

You’ve been trying to put me to work for free.

My voice is political,

Can’t be too loud or rude or angry,

Because my fury can shake solar systems,

Why you barely know how to keep your own planet under control.

What I make is political,

Because art is deliberate, considerate and universal-

-No wonder you steal from it so much.

My culture is political,

Because it doesn’t fit with yours.

The boxes you try to push us in,

Can’t fit the palaces we’ve built for ourselves.

My life is political





Because, we exist

Because we’ve lost too many to not matter at all

Because we’re here

Because I’m here

Because we’re here and still thriving and not leaving to make room for your hate

My love is political

Because it brings change

Because it divides and makes things grow

And because it terrifies you that we still dare to.



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