Note: this story does mentions a child passing away (not graphic/not the way of passing...just that one has)
Where I come from
I’m the small lima bean an hour away from a bean I go to look up at
Wondering why people gawk and laugh as they look at themselves in odd shapes
Wondering why I look even smaller
And why people only come see this city
Instead of mine
Janiyah stood at the mic in front of a crowd of teachers, students, and some of her family members. Her voice shook as she tried to remember her lines, holding her paper with her poem just in case something went wrong, like her nerves causing her brain to erase all the hours of practicing from her head.
She had submitted her poem to the school’s poetry contest a month ago, not really believing she’d win, but convinced by her mom to just try it out after she saw the school’s flier announcing it on the kitchen table. For days her mom asked her, “Have you worked on that poem,” and the question she’d been saying ever since Janiyah was a kid, “You do know your words matter, don’t you?”
She only answered, "Yes," to get her mom to smile and back off. But, if she was being honest she'd say she wasn't so sure.
The poetry contest winner was announced a week after she forced herself to turn in her poem. Now, she thought about how her principal said her name over the intercom, telling everyone she won. The students in her class looked back at her, in her own world at the back of the class. Her friend, Amon, gave her a thumbs up. She nodded at him. Mrs. Phillips congratulated her. She slinked in the chair and tried to seem more happy than nervous.
She tried to fight off the nerves now. But, each sentence came with its own wall to break through.
Where I come from
The red and orange sunsets wrap around tall buildings
My mother calls it “the greatest skyline of all time”
Before we head back to where the sunsets reminds us of flat lines
and wings behind a child in the sky
Janiyah’s voice got caught as she pictured her cousin’s funeral picture. Her little braids with beads at the end, and a halo just above her head.
She looked out into the crowd to see her aunt nod, a small knowing smile on her face. This was her first day out the house in weeks.
Where I come from
My teachers use their money to buy books
“Get out your books”
Followed by groans and “I lost mine”
We popcorn around the room
I shake in my seat, rereading the lines I know I’d have to say
Grateful for the teacher,
but mad at them at the same time
She looked over at Mrs.Phillips who faked a gasp with her hand over her heart. The crowd laughed and Janiyah continued with a smile.
Where I come from
The music makes the older people dance around each other with grace and fierceness
Steppin’ has a different meaning
My older cousins prefer footwork
I just sit and watch till someone grabs my hand
Ready to teach me some moves
Janiyah looked up to see her grandpa smile with his old phone too small for his hands, pointed at her (getting the blurriest image known to mankind). His leather flat peaked cap sat on his head, hiding the five strands of hair and balding she likes to rub when they watch tv together.
Her voice got steadier as she stared ahead. More sure of her words.
Where I’m from
There’s my friend who hasn’t spoken in years
Using his art to share what’s in his heart instead
All around the neighborhood
With chalk that washes up after everybody gathers around to see
Like “Hey, we caught the one of a kind piece"
A collector’s item that stays in your mind
Amon looked up to meet her eyes, as his own grew to the size of saucers. Then he crossed his arms and lifted his chin. Janiyah giggled.
“You the man Amon,” someone shouted and the crowd clapped and laughed.
Janiyah clapped too, causing her piece of paper to float down to her feet. She didn’t notice and carried right along.
Where I come from
My mouth waters at the sound of Harold’s
With their sauce that my aunt from Florida begs us to bring
More than she begs us to visit
Or when I think about that time
My mom’s tooth chipped on a kernel in the Garrett’s bag
And she cheered herself up by buying us all italian ice
Where I come from
I feel like I need to hide when I eat a hotdog the way I like them
Marco likes his hotdogs the old fashioned way
Mine has ketchup
Gina only cares for the deep dish slices
Quoting
“It’s under the sauce”
Her brother Marco scrunched up his face the way he does every time she asks for ketchup around him. Gina repeated, “It’s under the sauce.”
Janiyah’s brows furrowed as she realized her paper was at her feet. She was now at the part she struggled the most with. Her confidence faltered. She paused, unsure of how to go on, before her eyes met her mother’s. “You got this baby,” she mouthed.
Where I come from
There’s nothing I feel like I can
dream
fall
fly
Knowing that if I
falter
stumble
fall
I'd have people ready to help me up
When I think about how beautiful the city looks whether it’s where the tourists go, or as I play hopscotch down the street.
Where I know everyone comes together to celebrate the life of a child, and teach each other to love one another.
When I think about teachers who go above and beyond because they have faith in us.
When I think about how everyone dances differently, but with the same soul of the city
When I think about how rain can wash away art, but can’t wash away the real beauty created
When I think about sauce dripping on my shirt as I walk with the sun beating on my head in the “summertime Chi”
I take it all in.
The heart, the heat, both kind
The feet fast, the beat, people of all times
“The faces” where I’ve splashed my whole life
The love…
And the sunsets.
In Chicago
By the end everyone was out of their seats clapping and saying “Chi-tooooown.” Rising above everyone’s cheers she could hear her mother’s voice going, “That’s my baby,” and “I knew you could do it!”
Janiyah beamed at the crowd, feeling like she was a part of something. Feeling like she had more love than ever for her city, and it loved her back.
Feeling like her words mattered.
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