I Know That I Don't Know

I swear, I just want to understand…

Why do we think so differently?

Why do we hate what doesn’t mirror us?

You know…

Because of my skin,

I was born with privilege.

I’ve been given rights —

more than I ever asked for.

I’ve been treated better,

I’ve never had to fear.

No one looked away,

when I walked near.

I know that I don’t know

what it means to suffer.

I know that I don’t carry

centuries of pain and hunger.

I know that I don’t know

what it’s like to be broken.

To have my work stolen,

my voice unspoken.

I know that I don’t know

what it means to be feared,

to be judged,

to be hated,

to just disappear.

I know that I don’t know

what it’s like to be criminalized.

To be called “less than,”

to be pushed aside.

I know that I don’t know

what it’s like to hide your name,

or to fear the night,

or to burn in shame.

What I know...

is what I’ve never lost.

What I know...

is what it never cost.

What I know...

is what I didn’t earn.

What I know...

is what I’ll never learn.

I know that I don’t know

the pain in your story.

I know that I don’t know

what it means to fight for glory.

I know that I don’t know

what it’s like to be denied.

All I know...

is that I never had to try.

I know…

that I don’t know.

I know…

that I don’t know.