Skin not prison, come touch heart?

Linden Gibson
Raleigh, NC

I will never get used to being looked at by total strangers as a threat to their safety just by walking down the street. I see the fear in the averted looks, how they step aside or suddenly have something important to say to a companion, or seem to need to make an emergency stop at that next store on the block. I see the looks of disgust too, the eyes that tell me I am beneath their contempt, some lesser form of life. I did not choose the form or color I present to this world, they were an accident of birth. I wish people could just meet me with their eyes closed and their hearts open. I know they would be surprised that although I may look like the stereotypical Aryan of skinhead dreams, that is not what is on the inside.


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