Crutches by Britney Wilson (insert copyright symbol)
So, I've written about Brave New Voices and Poetry Slam before, and I seem to rediscover it every year and am moved to tears no matter how many times I watch it. It came up again in conversation with Mary today, but it felt a little hollow. Though she is a writer (she told me she was participating in a poetry reading next week and I gather she does it often) and an educator, she didn't seem to really get what I was talking about when I told her about Brave New Voices and I found myself craving that connection. So I fired up the DVR and re-watched the 2008 finals and the 2010 finals and I cried for about 2 hours straight.
I've described before how all of the poetry moves me and the journeys these kids take to write, present and share. How supportive of each other they are and how invested they are in making their voices heard. I've also described how invisible I feel with this disability and how voiceless I feel, whether because of the disability or my own insecurity. So, one poem in particular stands out for me, because it is the emodiment of the voice I wish I had.
Picture this: an 18 year old, slim black girl, using french canes (the kind of crutches that are held by the user with arm straps or cups), making her way slowly up the sloped auditorium floor, then up stairs onto the stage and finally standing in front of the microphone. Her team Urban Voices, NYC, follows behind, then lines up behind her and raises their arms in the air. She hands one of her crutches to a teammate. As she begins to speak, with a strong voice, with conviction and passion increasing with every line, the entire auditorium audience (about 600 people plus the judges) stand and raise their arms in solidarity. And this is what Britney Wilson speaks:
Trust is a gift
few people are worthy to receive
so I learned not
to give it freely.
But the doctor says I have no choice.
I stand alone
with assistance.
Lean on me
black, shiny
Still, with a firm handle
I learn to get my poker face
just right.
Determined never to cry;
only to make you sorry
you tried to make me,
whether you knew it or not.
Strong, but still weak,
I've become so desensitized
to my own daily life
it's hard for me to bring my insides out
hard for me to express myself
because
I can't protect myself
if I'm exposed.
The loneliness would swallow me.
The ignorance makes me want
to break some kneecaps
so you can feel my pain.
The apathy makes me want to
knock you off your path
of righteousness and oblivion.
The only thing worse than
my conspicuous invisibility
is your 20/20 blindness.
Like the zombie lady
in the shopping aisle, man,
who just nodded her head
not even listening to what I said
when I asked her where the bathroom was.
I guess the shock was too much.
But that's the effect I aim for.
I want to destroy all expectations
because
exceeding them would be
too easy.
I don't have time
to be that bleeding animal
in the middle of the road
waiting for you to stop staring
and see me.
Waiting for you to stop staring
and see me.
And I've been stupid enough
to let that make me feel low.
Desperate enough to hope to be
accepted, respected and embraced
without having to prove myself.
Running a never ending race,
giving you a head start
when I'm the one who's supposed to be
on crutches.
Don't try to make me into
what you think I am:
helpless,
'Cause I stand alone
with assistance.
Lean on ME,
Black, Shiny
paint chippin, imitation still
rubber tips gripped
to concrete wearing away under my
gradually increasing weight
as I navigate through life
at adjustable heights
depending on the circumstances.
But don't squeeze too tight
and don't lean too much
because
I don't even need to fall
to break.
I don't even need to fall
to break.
I WALK alone
with assistance,
Sore,
but still kickin'.
Is it any wonder that Brave New Voices fills me with wonder, joy, inspiration and hope? Is it any wonder that I am impossibly moved by the courage and artistry that is growing and thriving in today's youth? This is what keeps me hoping that the world can change. Because these kids are shouting at the top of their lungs about preserving, changing, honouring and growing the world they want. They have the courage to stand up and say that they want violence and hatred and ignorance and prejudice to stop. They write about all of it. They also write about the joys of living, and how we cannot take them for granted. These kids have more focus and perspective and passion than I have had in many years - and I look to them to re-light the fires of society. And in me.
I've described before how all of the poetry moves me and the journeys these kids take to write, present and share. How supportive of each other they are and how invested they are in making their voices heard. I've also described how invisible I feel with this disability and how voiceless I feel, whether because of the disability or my own insecurity. So, one poem in particular stands out for me, because it is the emodiment of the voice I wish I had.
Picture this: an 18 year old, slim black girl, using french canes (the kind of crutches that are held by the user with arm straps or cups), making her way slowly up the sloped auditorium floor, then up stairs onto the stage and finally standing in front of the microphone. Her team Urban Voices, NYC, follows behind, then lines up behind her and raises their arms in the air. She hands one of her crutches to a teammate. As she begins to speak, with a strong voice, with conviction and passion increasing with every line, the entire auditorium audience (about 600 people plus the judges) stand and raise their arms in solidarity. And this is what Britney Wilson speaks:
Trust is a gift
few people are worthy to receive
so I learned not
to give it freely.
But the doctor says I have no choice.
I stand alone
with assistance.
Lean on me
black, shiny
Still, with a firm handle
I learn to get my poker face
just right.
Determined never to cry;
only to make you sorry
you tried to make me,
whether you knew it or not.
Strong, but still weak,
I've become so desensitized
to my own daily life
it's hard for me to bring my insides out
hard for me to express myself
because
I can't protect myself
if I'm exposed.
The loneliness would swallow me.
The ignorance makes me want
to break some kneecaps
so you can feel my pain.
The apathy makes me want to
knock you off your path
of righteousness and oblivion.
The only thing worse than
my conspicuous invisibility
is your 20/20 blindness.
Like the zombie lady
in the shopping aisle, man,
who just nodded her head
not even listening to what I said
when I asked her where the bathroom was.
I guess the shock was too much.
But that's the effect I aim for.
I want to destroy all expectations
because
exceeding them would be
too easy.
I don't have time
to be that bleeding animal
in the middle of the road
waiting for you to stop staring
and see me.
Waiting for you to stop staring
and see me.
And I've been stupid enough
to let that make me feel low.
Desperate enough to hope to be
accepted, respected and embraced
without having to prove myself.
Running a never ending race,
giving you a head start
when I'm the one who's supposed to be
on crutches.
Don't try to make me into
what you think I am:
helpless,
'Cause I stand alone
with assistance.
Lean on ME,
Black, Shiny
paint chippin, imitation still
rubber tips gripped
to concrete wearing away under my
gradually increasing weight
as I navigate through life
at adjustable heights
depending on the circumstances.
But don't squeeze too tight
and don't lean too much
because
I don't even need to fall
to break.
I don't even need to fall
to break.
I WALK alone
with assistance,
Sore,
but still kickin'.
Is it any wonder that Brave New Voices fills me with wonder, joy, inspiration and hope? Is it any wonder that I am impossibly moved by the courage and artistry that is growing and thriving in today's youth? This is what keeps me hoping that the world can change. Because these kids are shouting at the top of their lungs about preserving, changing, honouring and growing the world they want. They have the courage to stand up and say that they want violence and hatred and ignorance and prejudice to stop. They write about all of it. They also write about the joys of living, and how we cannot take them for granted. These kids have more focus and perspective and passion than I have had in many years - and I look to them to re-light the fires of society. And in me.