Stories of Belonging
BELONGING
Photo and poem by a Valued Voice, age 16
Fading starshine silhouettes over the ever-expansive void.
You lag behind your friends to embody the distance you feel,
Ever-expansive divides between the last ones you love.
You are star crossed and destiny doomed, born to be
(Will I ever find a way in?)
Dragged along but cast aside,
Loving and loveless, frantic frenetic emotion
Shoved down inside so they don't see.
There isn't a day that goes by where you don't crave something else,
Something whole.
Where is belonging when you cannot find it within yourself?
MY TIME AS THE “STRANGER IN THE VILLAGE”
Photo and prose by Melissa Antoine, age 17
I spent a large amount of my time as a middle and elementary schooler feeling like I was an outcast. I would go to school some days and wonder why everyone else was “normal” and wish I had been born anything but Haitian. During my first few years there I was navigating the school as a bilingual student and had struggles that the people around me didn't experience. I would commonly forget words in English or simply not know how to say them yet and replace them in my writing with words in Creole. When we would have to share our work with the class I would have fear running through me as I had to share the words I only knew in Creole with the class. This fear stemmed from the constant racism I experienced at the hands of my peers. I would be told that I couldn’t possibly want to be in any of the professions I dreamt about when answering the commonly asked “What do you want to be when you grow up” because “Black people can't do that.” I felt like the Stranger in the Village throughout my formative elementary school years, and I had to teach myself that it was okay to be myself over time. I still feel sad for the little girl who went to school every day wondering why she was cursed to be black in a predominantly white school, and I want to tell her that she is beautiful just like the rest of her classmates.
GLASS
Photo and poem by a Valued Voice, age 15
Sometimes you can feel like glass
Seen by some but not by all.
But being like glass can help you pass
But that will never clear your slate
You can hide but you can’t come out
That will make you hate
But once it is clear that you were always there
You shall be able to fly free in the air.
TRANSFORMATION
Photo and poem by a Valued Voice, age 19
Birthed in a populous lake where honks overtake my voice
Water trails behind me as I eagerly scour for new change
Maybe there, my voice will ring
Far far far away
I lost my breath in this trek but found my adrenaline
The aroma of fresh car breeds newfound freedom
I am blinded to the red drooling out of many eyes
Eyes that are not keen to change
Eyes that are not keen to me
With my texture only triggering their fight or flight
Acceptance urged me to hold on to the hands of desperation
Hoping that I would not drown
Yet air crawls out of my throat
Water imprisons my voice
I cannot escape
Torment refills this lake as my mortification drains it
Leaving only one thing ringing
Laughter
In this change...
I am slapped with the label of the “other”
I am ridiculed for being different
Through the distorted reflections in this wasteland
The mutters of the flock are whispered
They tell me...
I am the ugly duckling
But the laughter kept me going
It pushed me
It made me
It made me know what was to come
The transformation
The beautiful swan
REASON WHY I DON’T LOVE
Photo and poem by Hannah, age 18
Reason why i don’t love is because i am scared of rejection
Reason why i don’t love is because i am scared of not being good enough
Reason why i don’t love is because i am scared of never being able to be quiet
Reason why i don’t love is because i am scared of being defensive
Reason why i don’t love is because i am not very girly
reason why i don’t love is because i am use to being alone and fending for myself
THAT’S SO GAY
Photo and poem by a Valued Voice, age 20
That’s so gay my peers would say
The words leaving their mouth staining my brain
The words describing something gross or disdain
It’s me I must be insane
Go on be straight
Lose all the traits that make you great
It must be better than all the hate
But those traits are enate
The feelings will precipitate and irritate
The feelings will bud like flowers in May
Regardless of how much you pray or obey
There will be a day when you finally will say
I’m so gay
I TOOK THIS PHOTO
Photo and poem by Amelia Jackson, age 18
I posted this photo
On my Instagram story
Late on a Friday night.
Because I liked the way it looked.
What followed this photo
Was a photo of my friend
Hugging that very same tree.
We had just spent the day together,
And were walking home from dinner.
I stopped
So he stopped
And we looked at the tree
I took a photo
So he took a photo
And he said, “This is the tree.”
I asked what he meant,
He said he takes photos of it often
And passes it on his walks.
I had never seen it before
Nor had I seen his photos of it before
Nor had he posted a photo of it
On his Instagram.
He isn’t very active
On his Instagram
But I am quite active
On mine.
I posted this photo
On my Instagram story
Because I liked the way it looked.
Apparently, so did he:
He sketched the photo of him
Hugging the tree
And a few weeks later
Mailed the drawing to his mom
When we were walking to dinner
On a Thursday afternoon.
This photo exists on my phone
And my Instagram
And his phone
And on a piece of paper somewhere in between here and
San Francisco
…or maybe it landed already.
This photo exists
In my mind
And in his
And now in yours.
Funny how that happened
All
On a late Friday night.