hen you see me – you don’t see me. You see me through the bias that causes you to blind-see.
The prejudice you know you hold about me, the prejudice your president or society taught you to see.
When you look at me – you don’t see a soul but gender or colour – you don’t see through it, you don’t see another.
When you see me – you have to hide your hate-see, hide it so that the world can’t see; but the world is seeing exactly as you see and perceive a threat of alarm by my gender that encompasses me.
I am sad to know that you cannot behold the fullness of who I am – a woman proud, I am not a man.
I shudder at the chains I see in your eyes – the chains of hate, a look of distaste. I long to see a freer me, a freer you – a freedom from chains that binds us to form segregated leadership queues.
When you see me – you do not see me, you see what you think you see through the eyes of someone not seeing. If you could see through the eyes of truth, you would see someone like you, an equal heir, called to co-rule.
Break free from the chains of hate! The voices of those already undone are calling out from the streets; break free before time is over and gone, too late. When time is over and gone it is too late to right what is wrong. Step out before the crowds overtake you, for then I let go of you, you disappear, too far gone.
In terms of gender and race, I hope we live to see the day where all this is erased. But if we continue to choose silence and submission in lieu for purpose and mission, we lose God’s hope and we destroy our calling to perfection. Take the chance, break free; choose to see me for all of me; not through some bias that can’t see, choose life chose me; chose the other – choose to embrace a different but equal other. Choose to recognise the strength of sameness in the eyes of another.