The other day someone asked me, “Where are you from?”
As I contemplated my response,
I envisioned their reaction,
as I told them so hesitantly,
I am from —
I stopped myself from responding as I thought about how they’d feel if I said I was from the hood that they so forcefully conceal.
I bit my tongue, and felt the blood pooling in my mouth, as the truth seemed so wrong, that it failed to come out.
Had I said those 2 words, they’d hear more than meets the eye
As their vision of the hood is all the violence, and the crime
But the truth is
I’m from streets where dreams are chased but never caught
From a bloodline that was lucky if they graduated 8th grade
Yet I stand here as a freshman with my dreams pulling away
It’s a game of tug of war,
A generational one
That boils down to two words
Yet I choose to say none.
I sulk in my sorrows, subjected to blame
for the things I go through,
‘cause we don’t look the same.
You could say they’re blind as cupid,
but the difference is clear
They have selective vision
Not out of love, but out of fear
Se asustan de que?
What’s scary about me
Is it the accent in my voice?
or the language I speak?
We complain that they’re entitled,
but we’re entitled to things too
entitled to the hate they give,
& jobs they don’t wanna do.
I think the part that hurts the most, is that they know what they’ve done
We live in places that aren’t home, cause’ they won’t let us have one
run
We spend our days running from a prejudice that binds
We run and keep on running with chills down our spines
The hairs on my neck standing up
Cus we can’t do it ourselves
God forbid I know MY rights
I have none compared to everyone else
But – They run too don’t they?
They run for different reasons, wellness, and maybe some fun
Why is my self defense equal to YOU shooting a gun??!!
The smallest things build up,
turn into something much more.
When the bruises swell up,
My “discoloration” becomes a chore
But – they run too…?
They’re not the only ones running
Cus my wounds run deep
I may not’ve been locked up myself
But the memories I keep
The repercussions of their hate, run through my families veins
And their blood is my own, so I’m burdened with the remains
But they run too!
They have the choice to run, we have no other resort
When theirs is a vacation, ours is death or in court
Making decisions to problems they will never.. get to face
They say we “take lives,” truth is they’re sentencing ours away.
so quick to lock us up,
so fast to forget our face
They don’t see the hurt we feel
So they make us feel out of place
They dont see who we are, they only see with their eyes
They don’t see their heart pumping the same color (blood) sangre as mine
Instead of looking beyond the surface
To find we are more than appearances
They’ll never know the white bones under the colored experiences
Yaya Lopez
Young Chicago Authors
Young Chicago Authors offers high-quality programs that nurture artistic development, social-emotional learning, and academic success through poetry and performance. Its Rooted & Radical Youth Poetry Festival is the largest of its kind in the world, gathering over 200 youth poets from across Chicago, Chicago-land, and Northwest Indiana. The festival centers storytelling over competition and fosters listening, empathy, and creative risk. The ten poets featured here advanced through the 2025 festival and offered lines that were impossible to ignore.
Poetry Foundation
This program is made possible with support from the Poetry Foundation, which amplifies poetry and celebrates poets by fostering spaces for all to create, experience, and share poetry.
