They will say, your language lacks finesse, your words low. They will form air quotes with their white fingers, say something clever about color. They will corral you into their lowness, as you sully their well-lit high poetic annals. With your darkness. They will say all of these things as they are stealing your language away from you. Until you cannot speak on your own behalf. Until you cannot speak at all. They will say you are simple, making inelegant noise. You are lowing. There is no thievery, they will say, the light is dim in here. You must not trust your own eyes, they will say. See how they cow you. See how they see you (when they wish to see you)—some brown cow best left in darkness.

And I will say, I have mastered your language. I speak it better than many of you monolingual assholes making ching chong noises at me. You think you clever. I know your dirty tricks. I’ll throw air quotes when you say, “diversity,” and “unity,” and “inclusive,” when you say, “I don’t see race.” And I will roll my eyes mighty. Trust this. And I will say everything I say in my many tongues, too much for your mouthing empty words, you don’t even know what I’m saying. My noise is inelegant, because I’m throwing f-bombs at you, motherfucker. I don’t give a shit if you think it’s coarse. Yeah, I’m pretty animal, I’m beastly. Are you threatened that this dark monster can holler and drown you out.