by M. Ocampo McIvor
Even though I grew up like a pinball
slingshot here and there and everywhere
landing with strangers in strange lands
twitching from lack and instability…
even though “American” was not my first language
and I had to learn it like all the other less-thans…
even though I was mocked for my un-American eyes
and nose and hair, and my un-American body…
still I acknowledge my current fortune.
They call me an entitled Karen
because I have some privileges
now.
From where they sit they think
I have no idea what it’s like
to be poor
or oppressed
or beaten
or rejected
even by my own kind.
But who is my kind?
M. OCAMPO MCIVOR was born in the Philippines, raised in Toronto, Canada, and currently calls both Toronto and Seattle home. Her work has been featured in The Bangalore Review, Burningword Literary, Spillwords Magazine, and Rigorous, among others. She is the author of Ugly Things We Hide and Who Knows You Best.
Union Spring Literary Review 