As the words stumble out of my mouth
I follow their eyes
Up and down
Across and around
As the sounds leave my throat
I watch their eyebrows furrow
I watch their head tilt
And I wonder
If they understood me at all
If they were listening at all
If the pitch made them question
And wonder, which?
I feel my skin on fire
My pigment burning
I feel them questioning me
I can hear the cogs turning
As a man, my legitimacy questioned
As a woman, my history questioned
As brown, my otherness brought to attention
The hair on my face
The shirt on my torso
The jeans on my hips
The movement of my lips
I’m just a person who needed some direction
It makes them wonder, which?
Written with great thanks to the Toronto Wordsmiths
