outcastes

so i was asked by my girl rush to write a piece about social consciousness
and i didn't write it
didn't want to write it
talked to my boy real8 about it last night and he was like, whattchya gonna do? wing it?
naww... it's not about winging it
its about not wanting to confront it

to be socially conscious requires awareness of society and one's place amongst that society
yeah... didn't really want to see that
because i'm at a place in my life where i want to feel good
i believe in energies and shit, don't wanna give power to things that make me feel inadequate
i so wanna believe in
what doesn't kill you makes you stronger
when a door closes a window opens
i wasn't born to fit in, i was born to stand out

but is that true?
or is it just some new age concept made up to make a wounded heart feel like they have purpose
feel like they belong some where, even if that somewhere is the minority, the underground, the organic, the weird, the rebel, the however we wrap up being different, smack a big bow on it and call all those things that set us apart- a gift


i watched the sun yesterday morning scooting up over the la skyline trying to get closer to the pink of the clouds
and thought how majestic it was

i don't want to hurt
my awakening to society was and still is, on somedays, a very painful experience
what does 'not belonging' look like

it looks like living in a town where i wasn't black and i wasn't latin
so for all my filipino i was punished 6 girls against 1
and as for my filipino, being scoffed at by the 'real' filipinos that spoke our native tongue
and then i find myself in a predominantly white high school with the 'all american kids' and i don't quite fit that status quo either
it looks like endless sundays 14 years strong
skipping the school ball games and saturday night parties
because i was studying to be an actor, a real artist
but that 14 years strong earned me, not a career, but a broken family
a bit of a broken spirit
earned me a new consciousness of fear and doubt that i have to fight everyday
it looks like standing in the middle of the circus and denouncing the emperor's new clothes and being thrown out
or seeing sadness in your parents eyes because you are just one child and not 5
or being the outcaste from a society you thought was your family
looks like aisle's of pictures sorted by alphabet while an old man gets his fix from this 7 year old body
and in some sick way- made me feel special, like for the first time in my life, i belonged
it looks like being born with one ear, half deaf
like when i'm talking to someone and they don't look at my eyes
because they can't help themselves, they just continue to have a conversation with the atrocity on the side of my head
looks like working harder to listen, to really listen
looks like being told you are not enough, you will never be enough
and getting up the next day anyways
it looks like being brought up in an industry based on the way you look
and they're not really looking for your kind
or singing songs over and over again to get it right
cause you hear in mono and the slightest shift of your head creates a different tone
it looks like the downfall of normality
all the societies that didn't want me

and how ultimately it grew me
realizing that even though i may have missed out on some culture because i never learned tagalog
or being stuck in a cult for half my life dedicating myself to a society that would eventually abandon me
trying to be one of the boys when my brother's really didn't want me
and knowing i'm one ear away from a silent world
i'll do my best anyway
cause i'd like to think, that's what we're all doing
doing our best
and that belonging is over rated as a whole
but in those quiet moments
between two people, those genuine ones
you might find in a handshake, in a hug, in a sunrise coming up over the la skyline
we're all outcastes and for that
we do, in those quaint moments, we do belong. to each other.