I Don't Matter

I had a presentation on Communism in the U.S. as it relates to African Americans (or as African Americans related to Communism in the early-mid 20th century) in my African American Literature class today. I thought it was fitting, sort of, to have a political discussion th day after we elected our very first African American president of the United States. There were no sad faces today, everyone walked across campus as though a great weight had been lifted off of our collective shoulders. Last night we shouted and cried and danced and prayed with a nation of people who have for so long been divided by the most insignificant of qualities as race, gender, religion, orientation. We held our breath as we listened to the next president of our country inspire hope. I am already incredibly proud of my fellow Americans for seeing past the black and white, the young and old, the old blood and the new. America is certainly on a path toward wholeness.

And yet, there was a sense of despair upon leaving my class today. I have fifteen minutes between African American Lit and Child Development, the only fifteen minutes I really have to myself on Mondays and Wednesdays. The leaves are falling now, not so much falling as sailing, spiriling, whirling. With a sigh they let go of the trees that gave them life and they float to the ground, without a particular landing in mind. They simply float, and land wherever they land. I stood on the path between the main building and the science building today, and kept repeating in my head "I don't count, I'm not here, I don't matter." I feel air and sunshine. I watch the sunlight peek through the dangling leaves and land on my cheek in a splash of colour. I taste the fall afternoons, the cool air whistling around me, sending orange and red and yellow leaves into my path. I walk, and I run, and I sing, and I dance, and I laugh, and I love, and I know, and I forget, and I don't understand, and I am sometimes sorry, and I am almost never right, and I love life, and I hold hands, and I take my time, and I smile, and I breathe.

But I don't count, and I am not here. There is nothing so damaging as feeling as though, because of something over which you have no control, you are being punished. You are poor, and therefore you must be punished. You are black, and therefore you must be punished. You are a woman, and therefore you must be punished. You are gay, and therefore you must be punished. Separate but equal. They let me vote, but my vote doesn't count. They collect my taxes, but I am not a citizen. I can't go anywhere where I dream of going without fear that that anywhere will hate me for me. I can't love freely. I can't live freely.

Sometimes when leaves fall, they don't know where to land. I feel like a leaf, suspended in mid air.

I'm so sorry for everyone in California. I'm so sorry for the families who are affected by this blind hate. I'm so sorry for the children who will grow up thinking, or knowing, rather, that there country does not love them as it should.

I don't matter.