“Our Colonial Inheritance”

We learned to adapt to your customs,
your habits, your traditions, your presence.
We learned your anthems, your religions,
your languages, your rules and standards.
We learned, and learned, and learned.
But when you see me out here on the streets,
you greet me with “Go back to where you came from”
And when I call you out on your racism, you claim to
be culturally sensitive, protecting Dutch heritage,
all the while lecturing me, not learning anything.
That is whIte supremacy.
You see, white supremacy isn’t only about Fascists
and Neonazis marching through streets, claiming to
take back a country they never even owned.
Rather, white supremacy is the visible and invisible
ideology running through the veins of our 21st century,
bleeding like an open wound that just won’t heal,
feeding real intergenerational trauma of People of Colour.
So, what is home you ask.
And I wonder…
What is home in a house that slavery built?
What is home in a society baptised in colonialism?
What is home in a country that does not protect you
from racism, rather protects the racists?
What is home in a place that claims “Colonialism is
ancient history”, when I cycle through streets and walk
past statues proudly worshipping Colonial war criminals?
The pain going so much further than skin deep.
The wounds scratched open with every question,
every comment, every mistake, every fake apology,
every interaction…
Because whenever I speak our mother tongue
I feel strangely estranged. Confused from all the
times I was told to “Go back home!”
when home never knew me, as if was
born from a different family tree, even
though our roots are all the same.
Yet you question my identity in the place where I grew up.
You question my identity in the country of my nationality.
You question my identity when I have repeatedly told you who I am.
You question my identity, because you don’t know what home is.
Because,

Yours was never questioned.
Yours was never rejected.
Yours was never colonised.
Yours was never enslaved.
Yours was never erased.
That is white supremacy.
You question where my home is because you fail to
understand that home is not a place for me.
Home was never a place for me.
Home is safety.
And safety is not the absence of threat;
it’s the presence of connection.
But how are we supposed to feel safe with
rejection after rejection after rejection…
Our bodies a museum of disconnection.
Our histories erased.
Our names rewritten.
Our stories edited.
Our voices silenced.
Our experiences ignored.
Our identities denied.
Our pain chronic.
Our fears constantly triggered.
Because if you really want to feel unsafe
just watch the news,
just exist in today’s society.
Toeslagenaffaire.
The treatment of Afghans and Palestinians compared to Ukrainians.
Continued re-election of Mark Rutte.
Ter Apel.
FVD.
PVV.
VVD.
Police brutality.
Lack of representation.
No reparations.
Our education system.
Omroep Ongehoord Nederland.
Omvolkingstheorie.
Gouden Koets.
Gouden Eeuw.
Protestboeren.
Boerkaverbod.
Hanky Panky Shanghai.
Blokkeerfriezen.
Zwarte Piet.

History repeating.
That is white supremacy.
And,
you don’t have to say it to believe it.
You don’t have to say it to uphold it.
You don’t have to say it to be complicit.
Just say “It’s just a joke”
Just say “You’re lucky living in the Netherlands”
Just say “But what about…”
Just say “You’re one of the good ones”
Just say “You can’t say anything anymore”
Just say “We shouldn’t have to pay for what happened centuries ago”
Just say “Third-world country”
Just say “White people are the minority”
Just say “We are well past Colonial times”
Just say…
…nothing.
That is white supremacy.
At what age do you become complicit
in the everyday oppression of People
of Colour that your privilege has made
you oblivious to?
At what point do you become responsible
when again you turn a blind eye to racial
injustices while hiding behind
‘minding your own business’?
What is the price that buys you a clear
conscience every time you whitewash your
hands in innocence?
How much longer will you hide behind
your white lies that keep alive centuries
of colonialism and slavery in our
so-called civilized society?
That is white supremacy.
And I am aware of the irony sharing these
words in a museum that puts the hurt of People
of Colour on full display while making them
pay an entrance fee to revisit their traumas.
Always living this double burden.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
You see,
most days I want to fit in more than
I want to stand out, but if I don’t,
who is going to notice us?
Most days I want to surrender more than
I want to fight, but if I don’t,
when will we ever have equality.
Most days I want to stay silent more than
I want to speak out, but if I don’t,
how will they know about our stories?
Most days I want to be violent more than
I want to reason, but if I don’t,
will they ever take us serious?
Most days I feel guilty for taking my activism
to places that are convenient, like poetry
readings or safe PoC spaces, as if I don’t
already know it is more needed elsewhere.
Forgiving yourself is a privilege.
Most days I only want to survive
more than I want to live,
because if I don’t
how will I even make it to 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90…
That is white supremacy.
You see white supremacy is
not you; it’s the system in which
we all grew up in.
White supremacy is
the ‘white’ history we have both inherited,
but you are enjoying the benefits
and I am paying its taxes.
White supremacy is
everything that I see, and you don’t.
White supremacy is
everything that I understand, and you won’t.
White supremacy is
everything that I feel and experience, every damn day.

White supremacy is home for you,
a home you take for granted,
but for me what is home…
What is home if not a feeling.
What is home if not ancestors.
What is home if not our heritage.
What is home if not a memory.
What is home if not safety.
What is home if not history.
What is home if not a human right.
What is home if not a promise.
What is home if not your body.
What is home if not remembering.
What is home it not language.
What is home if not a name.
What is home if not family.
What is home if not equality.
What is home if not humanity.
What is home if not resilience.
What is home if not self expression.
What is home if not acceptance.
What is home if not belonging.
What is home if not the past, present, future.
What is home if not a paradox.
What is home?
What is home?
What is home?
We remember to forget
We forget to remember
How do we forget?
How do we remember?
What is home?