Letter to the Empire, by Yaisha Harding:
Below is a poem that a member of our community, Yaisha Hardin, wrote that reflects upon this past Sunday's Advent jam-session on the Magnificant. I would like to invite others to write and post their own letters/comments to "the Empire".
Dear Empire,
Our kinship harms me.
I am a terrorist and a victim twice over.
I live here. Was born here.
Enjoy the freedom (now a little limited)
of writing this poem.
But I am a part of what is now
the most recognizable Empire in the world.
I went shopping yesterday
did my default duty
of contributing to you,
because I do not know how to construct a couch
or a pair of jeans …
I am not ok.
I am sick with this,
because the people I recognize as my own
may not always see me as I see myself,
in them.
“Do not talk to me of oppression. You are an American.”
Even the Diaspora is fissured.
I am trapped by you,
made impossible to believe.
My family may not accept me
because of you,
somehow the message is not always clear
that I have suffered because of you too.
I have lived in projects,
rode in luxury cars,
been denied a job,
gone to university,
slaughtered in the street by those sent to protect me,
seen my face on tv.
Somehow, all the seconds are not enough.
This morning I had a dream about alligators with snake’s bodies
being led on leashes.
I awoke and HYBRID
was the word
emblazoned above my bed.
“... now they are stuck with hybrids for children. And they don’t like it.
... They think we do it on purpose so it offends them. And I don’t know
what to do about it, Tambu, really I don’t. I can’t help having been
there and grown into the me that has been there.”
- Tsitsi Dangarembga, Nervous Conditions
Yaisha C. Harding, 2006
Dear Empire,
Our kinship harms me.
I am a terrorist and a victim twice over.
I live here. Was born here.
Enjoy the freedom (now a little limited)
of writing this poem.
But I am a part of what is now
the most recognizable Empire in the world.
I went shopping yesterday
did my default duty
of contributing to you,
because I do not know how to construct a couch
or a pair of jeans …
I am not ok.
I am sick with this,
because the people I recognize as my own
may not always see me as I see myself,
in them.
“Do not talk to me of oppression. You are an American.”
Even the Diaspora is fissured.
I am trapped by you,
made impossible to believe.
My family may not accept me
because of you,
somehow the message is not always clear
that I have suffered because of you too.
I have lived in projects,
rode in luxury cars,
been denied a job,
gone to university,
slaughtered in the street by those sent to protect me,
seen my face on tv.
Somehow, all the seconds are not enough.
This morning I had a dream about alligators with snake’s bodies
being led on leashes.
I awoke and HYBRID
was the word
emblazoned above my bed.
“... now they are stuck with hybrids for children. And they don’t like it.
... They think we do it on purpose so it offends them. And I don’t know
what to do about it, Tambu, really I don’t. I can’t help having been
there and grown into the me that has been there.”
- Tsitsi Dangarembga, Nervous Conditions
Yaisha C. Harding, 2006
posted by Tom at
11:49 AM
2 Comments:
I love the line about contributing to the Empire because you do not know how to make a couch or a pair of jeans! It shows how trapped we are in today's consumerist culture.
This is particularly important as we reflect upon how we celebrate Christmas. What gifts can I give (if I believe giving gifts is a way to celebrate Christ's birth) that do not feed into my continued submission to Empire? This is my struggle as of today...
Thank you Yashia. So true!
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