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Practice what you preach
Practice what you preach
Does the shape of my eyes upset you?
Does my existence even matter?
Because these shadows in me that amuse you
They just make me sadder
Can I for once be treated as a person
Not as a wingman, or a beggar
Can you for once not worsen the pain
That society has implanted in me
Since day one
Can basketball tryouts not be about colour?
But about skill?
Because my hands may be small and my eyes too
But my dreams certainly aren’t
My love for the sport isn’t small
And I for sure know how to ball
Because I know for sure that a blind man
Would not try to see people from their outside
But from their inside, from their skill
I know that janitors aren’t just “chinks”
I know that immigrants aren’t just “Asian”
So why? Why marginalize me
You ask me what I want to be
When you can’t even see me for what I am
When I try to do something else
Besides math and science
You think that I’m lying
Because we all know Asian are only good for math and science
Right?
Wrong.
So what if our eyes are small, it helps shield us from the terrifying truth of alienation
The burning fury we Asians already have for the world
So what if we love math
And we love reading
Is knowledge such a bad thing?
You only want to be bring down someone if they’re above you
You talk about equality Mother America , about liberty and freedom.
But you still enslave and alienate the people who hundreds of years ago
Built your rail roads, infrastructure, and were expendable in every facet just as they are now.
You talk about the freedom of speech and what not,
Of “I have a dream” and “four score and seven years ago”
But you don’t practice what you preach.
Growing up, I lived just down the road of school. I remember spending almost every single day of my life, walking, biking, running, playing basketball. At that time, I was oblivious of the fact that my fate was basically decided when I just came into the world. Because I spent so much time playing basketball outside with my brother, I didn’t care about the colour of my skin, or complexity of my eyes. No. But it was in fourth grade, when my friend told me that Asian kids can’t play basketball. Ever since that day, he left a shadow in my heart. But still I tried to enter the circle of those other kids who played basketball, and the answer was always the same: “No”. Because of the way I was born, because of the shape of my eyes the answer was always “No.” And finally, in 6th grade I was finally accepted as one of the best basketball players in the grade. But still, to this day, I am given the answer “No” because of the way I am.