A One Woman Protest

Now I stand alone, precariously treading the outlawed path

But for long I was surrounded by the White rebels,

Left-wingishly dressed

(Unrelated I thought, to the skinheads of my youth, who threw stones,

Yelled Paki and wog, and spat ‘get back where you belong’)

I admit, I was confused, mislead, easily impressed,

By this long-haired tribe of Whites,

With their torn jeans, bangles, nose rings, dread locks

Performing righteous rage safely at protests, where I was too often,

The only brown face in a sea of pink.

(Then when I was arrested, I found I was … alone).

Some thirty years on, they’re still looking away,

Singing songs of peace, with mortgages paid

While I was getting disciplined and dismissed,

Defending students of colour, was my crime

In colleges of White-defined education, money-making was the game

I realised their rhetoric never matched the reality

Always taking, their entitlement wounds

Gnaw you to the marrow of your bones