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My poem
You asked me:
“Have you ever experienced racism?”
And I paused—
Not because I didn’t know the answer, but because I didn’t knowwhere to begin.
You asked:
“What is racism?”
And I realised—
the book I had written
wasn’t one you had truly read, or wanted to read.
You asked about before—
Before I came to the UK.
You asked about my great-aunt, the one I called Grandma.
About who I was before I arrived here.
And when I told you, you became upset.
Not because of what I had been through— but because
you didn’t know.
You said:
“But you were almost fully formed when you came here— why now?”
I didn’t understand, until later—
that you meant:
“Surely you’d already assimilated. Surely you’d let all that go.”
You accused me—
of turning you into someone who discriminates.
I didn’t understand what that meant.
But now I think…
maybe by writing about racism,
I was shining a light on your biases, too.
Is that what you meant? Maybe I’ll never know.
You’ve stopped taking my calls.
And in my upset, I asked:
Why are you centring yourself in this?
Why does my pain become a wound on your skin? Why do you need to feel better,instead of listening?
That was not clever.
I know.
And still—
you told me we’d never see eye to eye. And maybe,
you were right.
The words “white fragility”
echoed in the room
as your footsteps left it.
But surely,
I should have handled it better. After all—
this is what I do.
The Six Stages Framework.
Having difficult conversations about race.
After all,
I always say:
Keep the door open. Don’t let it slam shut.
But the door closed.
A friendship lost to racism.
What is your story?
Who have you lost to racism?
#Racism #WhiteFragility #Empathy #Inclusion #SixStagesFramework #Equity #SocialJustice #ConversationsThatMatter #Relationships #AntiRacism
