i was never one for hope; it’s more that febrile gratitude i courted when i managed to just scot-free from things (alhamdoulillah); shed the notion of nation when i felt it strip me from the notion of home; but when america, again, folded its arms around white supremacy; suddenly i didn’t mind my melange so much; in fact i gripped it; held it back like a cur; let me put it this way; people look and don’t see further than the obvious (alhamdoulillah); and those conversations parch right then and there; the ‘Martine’ in my name? it’s a distraction; my west african legacy? it barely registers; had they known one of the quoteunquote towelheads being lambasted after 9/11 was me; wouldn’t have mattered i was a child; and also mourning for my country; let me put it this way; when you throw a dart with a bad aim; hoping to bullseye it; you don’t bitch when you miss the mark; you think at least i didn’t put someone’s eye out; those families trading surnames; to sound less arabic; they needed more distraction; than they could peddle; and even then i saw awful sacrifice; for what it was; and even then i could not judge; let me put it this way; scapegoating; it changes like the tide; sometimes i am hapless; sometimes i say ‘thank god’; sometime small shields are a mercy; sometimes you duck focus too late; so i take comfort in the arpeggiated revolt; in the oneness that protesting offers; all of us incomers; harmonized under our outsider’s badge; yet every now and then; a slur offered someone else; nonetheless looks me dead in the eye; snarls gotcha; thought you could hide; let me put it this way; you can always raise your voice; and pound the asphalt; and throw the bigot dumbfounded; off his little bitty horse; and do and do and do the work; (alhamdoulillah) you are buffeted; under one disguise and under others; but the guilt/gratitude/terror/whatever; it finds you; pinches you merciless; asks; did you? did you do enough? 



"This poem is written around the fresh wave of alienation that the recent protests have triggered up for me as a first-generation woman of Senegalese descent, which happens every time societal unrest in the US gets channeled into discrimination against marginalized voices— in other words, far too often. It is about struggling with Imposter’s Syndrome, be it as a POC, as a mental-illness sufferer, as a woman, or as a Muslim-American."