Poem: Raise, Erasure, Visible

When I am here,
I am made to feel White only,
People think that I am White only,
That I live a White way,
That I benefit from Whiteness,

I have to talk White,
I have to hide my urban speak,
I have to hide the roots of my Father,
A working class man,
Raised poor,
In the city,
Who didn't know he was Native until he was 16,
I hide the "ebonics,"
Ghetto talk,
Highland Park talk,
Rez talkin',
Urban NDN talkin',
If I talk this way,
Will I be dissected?
Looked down upon,
For not being White enough,

I even feel my skin color is not as dark,
Not the beautiful medium olive tone,
Darkening in the summer,
To a glorious dark brown,
I feel my skin color is lighter,
When I am around an all White environment,

No one wants to hear the beat of the drum,
That I carry around in my soul,
That I am dancing,
Even when I am not dancing,
At the pow wow,
Can you hear the jingles?
The beautiful sound,

I live the traditional Anishinaabe way,
I walk the red road to Wellbriety,
I honor my ancestors,
I honor the future generations,
I smudge several times a day,
I pray,
I connect with Mother Earth,
Grandmother moon,
I reclaim,
I decolonize,
I live a matriarchal way,

So when I leave,
Heteronormative,
Homogeneous,
Narrow-minded,
Provincial,
Conservative,
"Traditional,"
Environments,

I can dance,
Sing,
Live in my culture fully,

I can truly be me,
My skin tone even changes,
I feel,
That I do not have to hide,
Because oppressive environments,
Make my Native roots,
Identity,
Heritage,
Culture,
Language,
Invisible,

That is the goal,
To make us invisible,

Living the traditional way,
Walking this road,

Visible,
Visible,
Visible.