School is sometimes frustrating...

When I was young, I had no idea how much "bullying" really existed around me. As kids, as well as learners in a community, it seems impossible to not be judged or judge others for being different sometimes.
Kids made fun of my shoes, eyebrows, last name, skin color, and taste in music. (It was only cool to listen to Eminem and Lincon Park back then) but all this happened to me, yet I never would have said I was bullied because honestly, I just thought that's the kind of stuff people said and did to each other.

Now that I'm in college, I'm not sure if I don't still believe that notion or not...

It seems racism on campus is a bigger issue than anyone imagined, and if you look at it from a perspective of anyone who's been made publicly judged or made fun of by someone (drunk or sober), you can easily see why it would make a bigger difference to not just that person, but everyone in our community that hears or talks about it.
Cliques begin to thicken, Sides are chosen, we are put into seperate boxes, given different labels and  colors, and often times...we are told what to think.

This is a poem that I wrote last semester about these frustrations. It is more of a venting piece than anything else-I really do like choir and going to westminster, and I even like President Forsythe...but I hope that it might inspire some people to think differently about the way we do things at Westminster College sometimes. It doesn't make sense to try so hard to achieve a community of people who care. The Illusion of diversity is nice, but if we were to all communicate as one and support each others efforts, then we would really have something to brag about. Can that community exist? Or is our only hope creating a miniature version of the real world, where everyone is different but no one really listens or respects other peoples differences?

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For 200 hundred years it’s been this way.

We sing and dance in monkey suits.

We need them to pay,

But they spend it however they,

Please,

Please let us free of these puppet strings

-we sing-

We all want to succeed, but you hold it over our heads, 

like it’s cheese,

and we’re mice,

We give you all our chips and let you roll the dice-

And you already got the cheese we need...

But we must earn it.

You get to plant the seed, 

and we each get to grow into

Big, powerful trees,

With pride?

With esteem?

We grow into trees of greed, planting green right back into the pockets of

Our supreme being,

Our planter, Our provider,

“The two star general himself…

Mr. Barney Forsythe! “

You gotta be kidding me right?

I’ll be paying loans until what time?!

I should donate here why?!

I’ve heard it before,

“Here at Westminster College we try to live our mission,”

“Here at Westminster, it’s always been tradition…”

Tradition for the sake of tradition is superstition.

This superstition undermines our diversity

Cramming our resumes,

With opportunities,

Internships, scholarships,

Creating those partnerships,

Cramming our resumes;

Rigging the election,

(For our own protection)

A school that once had slaves in the 1850’s,

Denies an African student to lead S.G.A.,

who won the popular vote in year 2009!!

Then they smile at my skintone,

They want me to give back to my community,

They want me to sing in the choir with their harmonies,

Join their fraternities,

Bring in my assumed diversity,

It doesn’t make a difference to me,

I’ve never been to Sicily,

But I’m dark...

I can Smile for the camera as it reflects the heart...

of diversity?

I sing songs, and write poetry,

I give them all the heart I got in me,

But none of you come to my meetings!

Then when I get a voice on the microphone,

You want me to preach about my home…

Wait your talking about here?

For real?

I might look a bit exotic,

I’m not sure where I’m from yet...

But it isn’t about to be here…

“Well you had a choice to come here”

That’s just another assumption,

After high school I said I’m gonna to take off a few years.

My mother teared at the noition,

I feared that I would have these regrets,

But I haven’t given up yet.

I’ve always taken it easy,

I’ve always worked best under pressure,

I’ve always been kind of a hippie,

and I’ve always liked when people missed me...

So I’ve always left, and I still regret it,

Since a greater opportunity is always hidden,

By the ghosts of our past inhibitions,

I want to help take the mask off our global ambitions,

To celebrate all our traditions, 

by getting rid of them.

Instead of abusing our diversity by always using it,

We can embrace our diversity by being ourselves.

And if we are all so damn good at faking it,

We really should invest in a theatre program,

I’m here because I think I can.

I think I can, I think I can,

I’m an engine that could,

I’m drudging up these hills of should,

Although being wise implies a number of years,

And you can’t always persuade all your peers...

I will start something here,

If I can get out of bed, 

I will do the best I can,

 to make a difference.

Difference by definition is the antagonist of the same.

You cannot be afraid to advocate your name.

On graduation day...

I’m sure I’ll be late…

But lots of people here graduate,

I’m trying to mix it up a bit.

I’ll make a difference by being different.

I’ll take the road less traveled by,
 and still come out on the otherside.

Who knows if I'll ever get out of this maze,

But if I can reach my own nice slice of cheese,

And If I see a little more need,

And a little less greed,

A little bit of soul,

In this colorful fishbowl,

I’ll Come back to nostalgia I can only imagine,

If I do own a house;

Barney, (or whomever it may concern)

I will never call you sir,

If I can make it on my own

By car, by bus, by plane or feet,

...maybe I will come to Alumni Week-

......and If I might one day call it coming home,

...I MIGHT think about throwing you a bone.

I might. (nostalgia is a powerful thing)