The ignorant

White
Black
Asian
Hispanic
Whatever.
Why are we all just colors?
Why are we all just our country of origin?
Don’t we have feelings?
Behind that soft skin?
Underneath that silly accent?
Past all those stereotypes?
We all have a beating heart.

There is no above and beneath
I’m not some chart or a statistic
for you to decide my hierarchical rank.
I’m not white, no that’s just a color
that they put on all my standardized tests.
As if it matters, that doesn’t decide my intelligence.
The race I am or any other part of me
doesn’t decide my life, I do.

Why should I be ashamed of who I am?
I didn’t decide it, it’s not my fault.
And to be perfectly honest
I’m proud of it. All of it:
I’m a drunken Irish lass
and a sneaky Italian belle,
and you can shove it.

The ignorant will be ignored,
and my heart will be assured.