A Letter, A Plea, A Place To Breathe
A CSUF poet explores race in a time of protest. STORY: Isaac PHOTO: Gianna Horvath DESIGN: Candace Castillo
Cogs In the midst of all this, I often wonder where I exist. Its clear that I cannot exist within the world I once knew, the world that demanded of me labor and life-long servitude, but Im not sure I can call this home either. Because even though this space is healing and restorative and transformative and liberating. Though this space is radical and honest and finally voices all that I’ve held in, they don’t let me live here. I can’t take up home here relax or exist here I’m forced to work and live up to the work to be seen as the charicature they know But this was never meant to be a performing act. This feels all to familiar to what I thought we were dismantling. And though I’ve grown to resent this place it can’t be worse than the world I once knew. But if youre reading this, maybe you could tell me why the ivory tower feels as cold as the shackles of the world I once knew.
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tusk
BLACK VOICES
TU SK
