I Think, You Think, I
Shouldn’t Share These Thoughts
While on study abroad in London, I
saw a performance piece called Boarder
Tales regarding the immigration conflict in England. It was a dance
narrative with a multi-ethnic, multi-lingual cast of dancers who told their
stories of integration and exclusion through music, dance and language. One of
the most impactful numbers was a dance called; “I Think, You Think…” during
which the dancers recited stereotypes they assume other people have about them,
upon meeting them. This poem is inspired
by that dance.
I think, you
think, you make me nervous.
I think, you
think, I only get mad about injustices that affect me.
I think, you
think, I am far too proper.
I think, you
think, that I think I’m better than you.
All this thought,
about what you think, I think has made me loose my train of thought.
I am stretching
but still I fall short.
I was taught
many things as a child but I was not taught to know and understand what I did
not see.
My house was an
island.
My school was an
island.
My neighborhood
was an island from which I could find no means of escape.
But, I found
friends who agreed to carry me, to take me away from the ignorance of my
childhood, to them I am forever grateful but I know I can’t be dependent
forever.
The baggage of
my whiteness is heavy as fuck, and no one can dance with a huge purse.
I have been
carried for too long and even when I unpack the knapsack of my privilege there
are still things I have not put down.
They sound
something like this:
I think, you
think, your friends wouldn’t like me.
I think, you
think, I won’t understand.
I think, you
think, after college I’ll stop talking about race as a social construct.
I think, you
think, that I think your thoughts aren’t valid.
I am building a
bridge.
This bridge is
not a solution but a path to the possibility of a better way.
It will rescue us from the island of I think you thinks.
And one day wouldn’t it be lovely if before we teach our
children how to hate we teach them how to swim?
I think you have just provided us with a truly poetic way of describing the unspoken stereotypes, assumptions, and internal dialogue that every person actively fighting racial exclusion faces on a daily basis. Your description of your childhood as an island is a metaphor that many white activists at K can identify with. Yes, we were born onto this island, but not all of us are contented to stay there and be blissfully ignorant. Some of us want to see the whole world, for better or for worse. But there is conflict in that, the bridge you are building, that we are building, may not be wanted by the mainland. We as white people wishing to better understand, to stretch, have to deal with the fact that our participation may not always be wanted or accepted because of our privilege, and our history. Despite that, constructing this bridge is the best thing we can do in our situation. Whether we are wanted or not, it is our responsibility to try and build this connection, even if construction lasts longer than our lifetimes. Thank you for sharing, I really liked it!
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