I stood in line behind
someone
heard them call me
white girl/oreo/sellout
instead of Tasha.

Ew, look at her clothes.

Their red-lined mouths
were open wide laughing,
each laugh piercing my heart,
I wanted to cry.

I didn't know I was a victim
then, of racism by my own race.

But
there were plenty of
"black" white girls
to take my place.

I wanted to say,
your insults don't intimidate me
don't make me want to be like you
or hope for solidarity

your language isn't mine
your sports aren't mine
your ignorance isn't mine

so leave me alone.

Our ancestors battled for
civil rights
so you and your white
hip hop friends
could securely
call me names
in the cafeteria line?

Your dream isn't mine
but if you become wiser
maybe then,
we can be
classmates,
sisters,
friends.