Ignorance

They said that we’re too ignorant.
That we speak really good English—for immigrants.
Surprised that we hold degrees and life experiences, so they reject us.
Telling us that we need to be manufactured with
“Canadian experience.”
Do you know what that does to a child?
Watching their parents who hold prestigious degrees, hide behind their tears.
Smiling as they reminisce about their life in Egypt
where they learned hard work and grit;
honest effort and work ethic.

“A land of hope,” they said.
Yet, their dreams are crushed by suits and ties afraid of their accent.
The only light guiding them through their struggle
is their children’s potential success.
The hope that one day the alley
that their children walk down will be illuminated
by their sacrifices.

So, I walked down the alley sparked with their light.
Privileges I got that they didn’t have.
An 11-year-old hearing squeaking shoes on the court,
unsure if this was where I belonged…
Adidas, Nike, and Under Armour were all I saw.
Then, a basketball rolled over to me.

Squeaks on the court.
Nike, Adidas, and Under Armour moving down the floor.
When I looked up, people were running.
So I flew.
Like a wingless bird learning to fly with a burden
left on the gym floor.

Every day I wake up and my dream is challenged by a mere,
“your dreams are too much,”
when just about everyone challenged their dreams.
So I recall when they said that we’re too ignorant.
That we speak really good English—for immigrants.
Surprised that we hold degrees and have life experiences, so they reject us.
Telling us that we need to be manufactured with
“Canadian experience.”