You have spent your entire lives sneering at the ground I walk on. The style of my clothes and the tint of my skin. The food that I eat. The language of my people, the signs I use because I cannot speak aloud. You have wished for the death of my loved ones by barring them from the safety of your doors, even as you take from them what you like—their jewelry, their customs and food, their traditions. You have taken advantage of my silence in every way, robbed me of my dignity and my pride. You have used me for your own gain. Now, in your hour of greatest need, you will use me again. And yet, I
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