I cannot put myself in the shoes of the Dreamers anxiously awaiting a flippant decision from an incompetent man in power. I cannot fathom my life in the hands of a divided Congress.
Today is LA’s birthday, and in a city that has been an asylum for many, there are still cracks in the people that call it home. These cracks are inevitable. People are not perfect. LA is the home to many Dreamers and I hope that as LA blows out her candles, she wishes to continue being a safe haven for all.
Today seems like a good time to post this poem I wrote over the summer, about an encounter I had with my mom at the Broad. There’s still a long way to go. Fighting the power in Washington can be daunting and often leaves one feeling hopeless. But as a city, I have faith that we can do better.
i love cities because I blend in.
hues and shades of skin
across every border,
over every wall
in a museum I hear a well-to-do woman behind me:
“Did you take a picture with the installation?”
“Why would I? That’s for the Chinese tourists.”
her voice dripping with bright red disdain,
splattering the walls of the museum
painting a target on the people of my city.