privilege
i used to say i’d never say ain’t
but momma ain’t raised no snitch ain’t gonna tell y’all
how the hell do i tell y’all why i say y’all
is it the coal dust eye shadow smeared across my eyelids that you keep looking at is it
what bout the twang what bout
is it the way my daddy holds ya fancy ass glasses with the crest with the
Princeton in the service of the nation and in the service of all nations
is it the way i never think about the coal dust smeared across my great granddaddy’s chin
the way i never think about the fact that my ancestors way back when
were the villains were the original sin were the
used to say i’d never say ain’t
but ain’t no sense in lyin’ when you ask me where i’m from and i say
The Confederate States of America
-
did i cry?
well — i think quickly, because ralph lauren and tommy hilfiger over there are pinned to my lips — where are they from? what would they say? what did they pay — and
well yes i did, i say, the words slipping, catching, colliding like first-kiss-new-braces dirty-feet-against-creek
because what did i really pay for princeton? what piece of me did i sell? she doesn’t see the trees. the dirt. the treason the guns the flags—
do i even bother? she can’t place missionary ridge. her pearls are white moons, they orbit my brain, and there’s a smudge of mascara beneath her brow. which looks good, probably because she wears the expensive velvety kind of makeup. the boy beside her smiles familiarly at me, his teeth are white tombstones.
i hate him distinctively, dispassionately, disorderly.
i’m not joking, i want to yell, this is not an exaggeration, this is not
but do i tell them the secession of my country before congratulations? the dissolution of my union when i saw the numbers? how the stars divided between red and blue when i recited the words? the lights? the sun the moon the Under God? the
Congratulations! I am delighted to offer you admission to Princeton’s Class of
no i don’t. because instead i flash my own acid-white mouth, sip some wine, choke my accent back and wonder
how in the hell did i afford the bracelet that keeps catching on my dress
