I am America.

 

 

The land of democracy.

My rivers and streams

Bubble over with dreams…opportunities, hope.

My mountains kiss the sky’s edge,

Right where the sun retires.

Vivid shades of orange, yellow, and pink all blended,

Like the instruments of a symphony.

The dips of my valleys bow to God,

The leader of my great nation.

I, the country that most others use as a role model.

The world’s mediator in times of war,

But…I’m not flawless.

 

Though the colors of my sunsets effortlessly blend,

The hues of my reality are anything but harmonic.

My pledge says that I’m indivisible,

Yet, privilege lines are drawn,

For racism, classism, and sexism.

It’s forgotten that the toils of my birth,

Was carried on the backs of an enslaved race,

And the genocide of another.

 

America, the land of expression,

Has never been more than a land of oppression.

My people of color walk around,

Afraid to give their life any sound,

For their existence could be ended with a hashtag,

And a mistrial: “not enough evidence found.”

How can I be surprised that opportunities,

Are concealed from minorities,

When the founding fathers’ dream,

Never included them anyway?

My very foundation is a lie.

Holding on to traditional views only worsens throughout time,

By people who deny,

That racism exists.

Or even that poverty persists,

Because of the unequal distribution of money;

Capitalists.

 

But even worse,

The phrase “like a girl” is an insult.

Feminine is associated with fragility.

That apparently limits capability.

Or at least, that’s what is seen,

From women earning seventy cents to a man’s dollar.

No y chromosome?

Why bother, to ask their thoughts?

On consent? Abortion?

Or the double standard of virginity?

I’M the face of liberty.

 

Worst of all is the education system.

The students are against each other in competition.

Striving to make their best, better,

Trying to stay on top of their grades.

All the while losing their sense of self in all the statistics,

and Limiting creativity by any means.

There is more focus,

It seems,

on Midterms, exams, ACTs and SATs.

Pressuring the students to be…perfect.

It’s the perfectionistic ideal of me, America.

However, flawless I’ll never be.

Flaws are woven into the very fabric,

Of my existence.

My history of bloodshed and lives lost:

Atomic bombs, wars and Jim Crow have come at a cost.

My past cannot be erased,

but my system can be realigned.

So that my people know,

That their lives are worth more than gold.

Whether their skin is cut from ebony or ivory.

 

Together in unity,

Classism and sexism can dissolve to equality.

Flawless is a social construct of impracticality,

But I am hoping to be…

Less flawed.