My skin is an experience

my mom has never had to have.

Despite adopting two brown kids,

she’ll never fully understand.

 

How do I tell her that blue uniforms

are a source for nervous hands?

That passing those in MAGA hats

are cause for nervous glance?

 

The times we watch the nightly news

and she hears the words: “I can’t breathe”,

she only hears Eric Garner’s voice.

My mom does not hear me.

 

How can I explain the pain that I feel

from the anthem, “Build The Wall”?

That even though I’m a citizen,

I still suffer the hate of it all?

 

And when we watch the nightly news,

and El Paso clips fill our screen,

she quickly changes the channel so that

my mom does not see me.

 

She doesn’t feel uncomfortable

walking past police.

She doesn’t feel eyes bore into her

when discussing diversity.

She doesn’t wince at confederate flags

or anti-immigrant speech.

 

She doesn’t ever watch the news

and think, that could’ve been me.

Adopted from Guatemala, Claire Riddell grew up in Kansas City, Missouri. She is currently a junior with a double major in Psychology and English Creative Writing.