Tanisha Shelton: We're tired of this

Monday, October 2, 2017 - 5:38pm

You shoot me with a gun,

I didn’t do anything

But yet you still run.

Silent judgement

You pass upon me and mine

Because the color of my skin,

So bronzed and full of shine.

My fellow people say

You make us seem less,

Beating us up, pulling our hair,

“Oh it’s such a mess.”

The way my lips

Are full and round,

The way my hips sway

As I walk over dreaded ground.

You want me to respect you

No matter what you do to me.

You want me to agree with you,

“Mexicans have no right to be

Here” when you know

As much as I,

What only should be heard

Are Native cries.

Don’t look at me

With a scowl on your face.

Look at me,

As I belong in this place.