Punk Monk Press/Magazine

This piece was originally performed at Cha Island on March 26, 2015 for our local Speak Your Peace! event. It was awesome. You shoulda been. Whisper to ROAR I spoke, it wasn't very loud and no one heard me I was not heard and it felt like I was not seen, In my private place I spoke long of all the things I wondered about, thought about things, I wanted to see if someone would listen. If they saw me maybe they would hear me. I tried to speak again and no one heard me I felt so sad, so all alone, I started crying. Now there was SHOUTING!: I'll give you something to cry about. I was in shock, I did not know that tears were loud and could be heard when my voice could not. My voice kept trying to be heard but it had no strength I tried to shush my tears but they could not be quieted I tried to listen, to hear the voices of others, perhaps their voice could become mine In my head, I heard so many voices most of them angry, threatening and loud...

This piece was originally performed at Cha Island on March 26, 2015 for our local Speak Your Peace! event. It was amazing. For fifteen years or more, I've felt invisible. I recall saying, at the age of seven, that I couldn't possibly accomplish anything because I was a young half-Native girl (being the opposite of my oppressors, the middle-aged-to-old white men of power, but luckily I had parents to usher those ideas out with the words of, "It's because of those things that you have the power to do anything." And for a decade, half my life no less! I lived on the reserve, but there are people here who've known me for years without realizing where I'm from, so maybe I should stop my own erasure and declare my heritage proudly! (Or sadly once you realize just how decimated the culture truly is.) Passing on partial pale-skinned privilege, have I shucked the identity I lamented at age seven, I created on to suit the system for my late success. I wo...