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Oh shit it's Wayne Brady!
Location: Passenger seat of Wayne Brady's car.
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My first poem about my ethnicity
Many of you know I'm a Native American Archaeological monitor, and I have seen over 400 of my ancestors' burials exhumed in Los Angeles first-hand. I write a lot of poetry on my myspace site, but this is the first I've written in regards to my ethnicity, so I decided to share it with you all. I hope you like it.
"I am a victim of genocide Yet I am still alive. My blood tells me I am a product; A watered-down version of my ancestors. I am Tongva, Native American, But I am also European. Even though I live in present times, I am a slave to those who wish me to be gone. I don't know my own language, While at the same time, I do. Your city is built in my back yard, Yet it is my city, too. If I could bring my people home, I would. But we are already home. The world is my people; The world is my tomb. Times haven't changed; We've just evolved. Enslaved in a different way; I work for you so I can live another day. Not given a chance to rebuild; 1/8 of my culture; 7/8 of it gone. Dug up in the name of development; Removed from existence for the rich. So I say "Welcome" to you, Just as my ancestors did for yours. Only this time I say it in English, Wishing I could say it in Tongva. If I could bring my people home, I would. But we are already home. The world is my people; The world is my tomb." |
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Tags |
ethnicity, poem |
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