My spirit was broken early as a child. I used to think I’d see the rainbows and lollipops. Struggle was spoken of like an absent partner of life; while happiness and family were given the respective nature of priority. The self, hardly discussed. Lack of encouragement to the growth of what is to be considered personable and endearing. Assimilation was taught to the new generations, unsuspecting there was any act of assimilation necessary for a life born out of de-facto privilege in comparison to those who struggled before.
Protect the life that was fought so hard to produce. Protect the life that led you to your current happy, shining family. Darling, and there must be pictures for the proof. The mere acts of holly jolly familial entertainment wouldn’t suffice under these working conditions. The public would notice and suddenly these falsehoods would be cast to the surface.
Acknowledge the discourse, break the wave of secrecy, and suddenly you find yourself on the outside looking in. An unbreakable barrier constructed out of the ignorance of light-hearted curiosity.
They do not wave back once the fingers dance behind the glass.
Position assumed, there is no going back.
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