You stole every one of our stories,
Chest blossoming with anger when we dare to claim anything.
The locks that fed and grew Nations.
You call it past when it comes to suffering but colonization history.
Heritage only matters when there is a white face behind it.
A history of preparing our women to be taken
Sweeten the story to say conquered and not stolen
Tell them they’re savage, not people
You want to silence the stories sewn into our scalps,
Name it a hairstyle or trend to silence the current
Mispronounce my name and say it’s strange.
Call my features beautiful on someone else’s face.
Kenya Burton Poetry 