This is how we clap for ourselves with both hands strapped behind our backs.
This is how we will normalise our existence, our persistence, our perspiration under self-made banners; one piece of paper at a time.
We were founded under a thought, a dream,
that we deserve to be seen,
and see those mirror images
on both small and big screens
on greeting cards,
and passing cars,
and in old folklore told near and far.
This will be our legacy,
the generation founded on lies.
We will tear off your powdered wigs,
unmask ourselves from your disguise.
We are black, and brown
and different and sure,
that in all our differences,
we deserve to feel secure.
We are not one voice,
But a thousand that still sing,
we are the under-represented
And you will let us in.
By Leanne Spencer
Featured image courtesy of Clarke Sanders via Unsplash