The Wrong Words

Solidarity

You tell me not to worry,

To look the other way.

You say it's none of my concern—just go about my day.

You tell me they don't get respect,

That it's a privilege earned,

But cry that I am so unfair when I the tables turn.

You say you're only joking,

That you meant no offense,

That you've done nothing worthy of a contrite recompense.

You say I'm being sensitive;

It won't affect my life

When you make a mockery of someone else's strife.

You say it's your prerogative,

The freedom of your speech,

Even though it hurts and wounds the people that I see.

You fall back on your "what about"s;

The burden's all on me

To prove your rudeness even though it's plain for all to see.

You wait for me to say a word

That proves you're in the right,

But I have done this all before; this isn't my first fight.

I've been before where they now stand,

Where words have cut too deep,

And I've no qualms 'bout telling you your silence you should keep.

I'm not the only one out here

Who faces persecution,

Slurs and hate so often of haphazard execution.

So I choose to stand beside them

And to put you in your place.

You're not a fine, upstanding member of the human race.

Identity is not a joke,

Oppression is a stone,

And someday when you stand for hate, I'll see you stand alone.