Poem: I Went to the Racist Work Environment

No one supports for real

It is the fashionable “activist” thing to say you went somewhere,
That you went to Standing Rock,
That you got that “badge,”
That you are a part of a “movement,”

White Liberals Always Abandon You,

Some White liberals are happy bullying you,
They are racist but “God-colonial-willing,”
They will go to Africa instead of seeing you,
They have 60 plus acres of stolen land,
Resources and access to more things than I ever,

White liberals eat and hoard,
Hoard and eat,
Devour our land,
Always hungry for more land “conservation,”
In a do-gooder-feel-good-gold-star-kind way,
I am White and a liberal shouting from the Manistee National Forest,
I done did good you see me and my colonial might,
Meanwhile pushing-hiding the Ojibway/Metis Two-Spirit,
For colonial fame and unearned fortune, 

This abuse is for real,
I am calling it out,
I am tired of the white liberal festishizing us,
Simultaneously hiding and silencing us,
For the power and might of the colonial control of the wee-town,
They are sinners according to their “God,”

Gchi wiigwam

Tiny houses are racist since we always had the entire land,
Water,
Abundance of food,
Abundance of love,

Nothing tiny is who we are as Anishinaabe,
Star knowledge is not tiny,
It is only this new idea of colonial exclusion in which we need to be tiny,
For the sake of tokenizing on a panel,

It is our inherit right to have everything expansive as the night sky,
Decolonization means reclamation of this unparalleled expanse,

Racially Hostile Work Environments

Trying to make it and stumbling into the colonial oppression,
I went to racist work environment on numerous occasions,
I am treated as the other in othering ways,
White liberals turn a blind eye and they go to Africa instead,
They are colonial bastards,

The racist work environment on numerous occasions,
Became numerous occasions,
For millions of First Nations,
Inuit,
Metis,
Mestizo,
Indigenous,
On Turtle Island,

The colonial people in their tudor clothes,
Click click click down the hall,
To gossip about that mad Indian,
Pshht – why is she so mad?
I don’t understand – thaha – that Indian should be grateful for these pennies we give her,
Pieces of porridge in a tupperware bowl,
For the corner of the pie,
For the corner of the rez,
For the corner of a book,
For the corner of chaffed identity,

I’m looking for clothes that aren’t colonially chafing me,
As I move about and try to live you see,

Work environments where white racist lips,
Move their colonial mouths,
Adjusting that ugly royal tudor collar thing,
Their colonial mouths moving,
Over board room tables,
White documents by white hands detailing racism,
Pshht – I’ve got white law protecting me,
Fair and just and fair for me,

The work environment,
Defined by the colonizer,
Under colonial wage and labor laws,
As defined by colonial anti-discrimination laws,
As defined by the colonial EEOC,
Now it shall be resolved that discrimination will occur in settler colonialism,

The Non-Community

Every white liberal parades down the street with a “community building” banner,
I didn’t know 500 likes on anti-social media meant community,
I “hearted” your status,
Superficial dopamine sugar highs without the depth of meaning,
The non-community is what is real,
Not everyone wants your version of “community,”
Your version ignored these daily cuts of racism,
And tokenizes our pain,
It is why we walked neared the edge,
But you feel good with your empty words and liberal abuse,
That simultaneously marginalizes us even more,

The land as my arm

My arm endured these cuts,
From these racist work environments,
This is the war machine,
On my body,
On my soul, 

I went to the racist work environment,
I survived war on my body,
Mind,
And Soul,

This movement is within me,
Within the prayers of our ancestors,
This healing fire and cleansing power,
My voice is reclamation!
My body is mine!
My soul is bright!
I am a warrior!