They love the foods that you eat
The braids in your hair,
Your sun-kissed skin
And the elaborate fabrics you
wear.
They admire the henna on your
hands
The fascinating rituals of old,
Your ancestors’ headdresses
And the stories of your history
that are told.
But they do not love your fear
They do not love being you,
Your constant confusion is not
theirs to claim
They disregard the suffering too.
The cruel slurs and stereotypes
can stay
The pain of the past they won’t take,
The strain it leaves and the
strain it brings
Of keeping your culture awake.
(Written by a Y8 student and inspired by a poem by Sydney
Nash.)
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