Tag: Frances Koziar

Skin

By Frances Koziar

Skin colour
does not dictate culture—

I could tell you all the ways
that this is true, speak of abandonments
and adoptions that sink deeper
than flesh, of homes and not-homes,
of the erratic mixing
of bloodlines; instead
I want to say that being white
but not White
puts you in a unique
kind of danger.

We are attacked
by our own and our allies, attacked
for expressing what we love
in the name of appropriating our own
cultures, our identities
disbelieved because all they can see
is the spiky shell of the lychee, not
the sweet fruit encased
inside.

I want to tell you that wearing
an amulet of protection draws crosshairs
of attention when all I want is to bare
my identity, to love a homeland
that is as much a part of me as the privilege
of my colour, to reveal some
of the tender sacred parts of myself that I yearn
to share as I reach out to others

But I also
understand—I too
have seen first-hand how some
beliefs are disagreed with, while others
are just laughed at. I

know the pain of mockery
for believing in animism or the magics
found across so many cultures,
have seen the glassy stares and the
this-is-a-joke-right? smiles
when my eyes are filled with feeling,
have felt the twisting in my gut when I
am silenced one way
or the other, watching
other whites wear what they want
without a second thought to having
their people ridiculed by those choices
or their ancestors
silenced.

            They are lions
who’ve never had to shave the precious
gold of their fur
for safety; have never watched
each beautiful strand fall like wishes
that will never come true, never
known how it feels to hide
the gifts of their identities like stolen
property lest they be mis-
understood, until the very ground
beneath them has become soft
with their lies.

FRANCES KOZIAR has published poetry in over 45 different literary magazines, including The New Quarterly, Acta Victoriana, and Vallum. She is a young (disabled) retiree, a painter, a gamer, and a social justice activist living in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. Visit her website.

Photo by Philbo 🇺🇦 on Unsplash.

A note from Writers Resist
Thank you for reading! If you appreciate creative resistance and would like to support it, you can make a small, medium or large donation to Writers Resist on our Give a Sawbuck page.

Reputation

TW: SA

By Frances Koziar

 

He speaks of his reputation
while I think of fates worse than death,
his name, when I would gladly give up mine
for a good night’s sleep, to see those nightmares
shaped like ordinary men slain
before their groping hands reach me; he speaks
of having a life ruined, not knowing
what that really means, not understanding
how men can form packs like wolves
at the first sound of a woman’s
assertiveness, ready
to tear that voice from her neck, carnage
be damned, not seeing our loss of reputation
every time we speak our names, our shame,
even when the evidence convinces anyone
who’ll let it; I laugh
when I want to cry, hold still
when I shake with fear, walk with poise
when I am running away, because attention
is the most dangerous thing of all. Smile
they tell you while you bleed out from the throat;
Speak, Pretty One,
but only if you say frivolous things; Sing—
but I can only hear screams.

 

Frances Koziar has published poetry in over 35 different literary magazines, including Vallum and Acta Victoriana. A young (disabled) retiree and a social justice advocate, she lives in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. Visit her website and follow her on Facebook.

Photo credit: “Eve in Shame” by Stanley Zimny via a Creative Commons license.

A note from Writers Resist

Thank you for reading! If you appreciate creative resistance and would like to support it, you can make a small, medium or large donation to Writers Resist from our Give a Sawbuck page.