The Caucasity Songtext
I speak, I have spoken
I have spoken across this so-called United States of America
I have shared stories, ideas, historical anecdotes
Social justice tales, personal lore, and the like
This one time I was speaking, a young man interrupted me
Interrupted me with all the authority he could muster
And what I can only imagine was placed, or misplaced
In his whiteness
The caucasity
He knew he could interrupt me because his parents likely told him that he could
But I'd be remiss if I didn't admit that I was intrigued
What could possibly be so important?
As he interrupted me as I told stories to these children
Stories they've never heard
Stories I was invited here to tell
His query
"Why do you spend so much time complaining and not putting your energy into actually helping your people?"
The shock, the offense
The caucasity
When he asked his question, he nudged his friend next to him
Looking for an agreeable partner, an allegiance, a validation
A mob of two, which is technically the smallest mob you can have, I think
His friend physically moved away
Shaking his head as though pleading, "Please, don't pull me into this, please, please"
And the room rumbled as though providing a soundtrack to his friend's discomfort
The caucasity
Perhaps instead of saying a thing that comes from a place of your ignorance, you should ask, "Why am I here?"
Why have you never heard these stories?
Why has your poor education told you that the Whites are the heroes and the Blacks and Browns are the enemy?
In the way, property, less than, savage, godless
And you have the audacity, no, the caucasity
To perceive inconvenient truths to be complaining
In a learning institution
Why do you believe that an educated indigenous man is unable to teach, speak truth, and help his people all at the same time?
And why as a nineteen or twenty year old child, do you think you know better?
Assured of your righteous place in the world
Why do you ask your question with that smug look on your face?
That same smug look carried by your ancestors that enslaved
And lynched and murdered and maimed and plundered
The caucasity
I get it, you're at a disadvantage
Information has been omitted and you carry things that are systemically in place like
"My people are special and magical" or something
And your love of Native Americans is rooted in the romance of our existence, something to fantasize about
Unique, exotic, not human
In reality, we are a people that were in the way of so-called progression
We were murdered and enslaved and your idea of us is sports mascots
Or the antagonists for a John Wayne or Kevin Costner film
We're D-list characters, eliminate-able characters
People that are frequently treated as foreigners in our own homelands
And we've gone so far in the colonial process that we barely exist to you
We aren't something to be seen or respected
Or something that stands even as a cautionary tale on how to avoid dehumanization and assimilation
And ignorance and brutality and imperialism or genocide
Because we are an inconvenient Indian
Something that challenges your own sense of superiority
Something you don't have to think about because you don't have to think about it and look, your privilege is showing
I hope you learn two things here
First, don't do that
And second, why do you spend so much time complaining and not putting your energy into actually helping your people be better?
By not being this, not this, never this
The caucasity
I have spoken across this so-called United States of America
I have shared stories, ideas, historical anecdotes
Social justice tales, personal lore, and the like
This one time I was speaking, a young man interrupted me
Interrupted me with all the authority he could muster
And what I can only imagine was placed, or misplaced
In his whiteness
The caucasity
He knew he could interrupt me because his parents likely told him that he could
But I'd be remiss if I didn't admit that I was intrigued
What could possibly be so important?
As he interrupted me as I told stories to these children
Stories they've never heard
Stories I was invited here to tell
His query
"Why do you spend so much time complaining and not putting your energy into actually helping your people?"
The shock, the offense
The caucasity
When he asked his question, he nudged his friend next to him
Looking for an agreeable partner, an allegiance, a validation
A mob of two, which is technically the smallest mob you can have, I think
His friend physically moved away
Shaking his head as though pleading, "Please, don't pull me into this, please, please"
And the room rumbled as though providing a soundtrack to his friend's discomfort
The caucasity
Perhaps instead of saying a thing that comes from a place of your ignorance, you should ask, "Why am I here?"
Why have you never heard these stories?
Why has your poor education told you that the Whites are the heroes and the Blacks and Browns are the enemy?
In the way, property, less than, savage, godless
And you have the audacity, no, the caucasity
To perceive inconvenient truths to be complaining
In a learning institution
Why do you believe that an educated indigenous man is unable to teach, speak truth, and help his people all at the same time?
And why as a nineteen or twenty year old child, do you think you know better?
Assured of your righteous place in the world
Why do you ask your question with that smug look on your face?
That same smug look carried by your ancestors that enslaved
And lynched and murdered and maimed and plundered
The caucasity
I get it, you're at a disadvantage
Information has been omitted and you carry things that are systemically in place like
"My people are special and magical" or something
And your love of Native Americans is rooted in the romance of our existence, something to fantasize about
Unique, exotic, not human
In reality, we are a people that were in the way of so-called progression
We were murdered and enslaved and your idea of us is sports mascots
Or the antagonists for a John Wayne or Kevin Costner film
We're D-list characters, eliminate-able characters
People that are frequently treated as foreigners in our own homelands
And we've gone so far in the colonial process that we barely exist to you
We aren't something to be seen or respected
Or something that stands even as a cautionary tale on how to avoid dehumanization and assimilation
And ignorance and brutality and imperialism or genocide
Because we are an inconvenient Indian
Something that challenges your own sense of superiority
Something you don't have to think about because you don't have to think about it and look, your privilege is showing
I hope you learn two things here
First, don't do that
And second, why do you spend so much time complaining and not putting your energy into actually helping your people be better?
By not being this, not this, never this
The caucasity
