“Who is to say”
by Ashleigh Shohn
Is it my CDIB, this little card that apparently validates my ancient blood?
Puts an expiration date on my kin and reminds me of white supremacy and sin
Quarter, Half. Not enough, too much; Not good enough
Is it my thick dark hair, that lays like a cloak when I let it grown long
My high Sioux-ian cheek bones that say I’m here…
My squinty Ojibwe coke-cherry eyes; that have always said more than my words could
Is it my beautiful little brown grandma, whos’s watched me grown and always helps me along
They say with an Indian women you can never go wrong
Not knowing we’re forced to be strong; In this little world that went oh so wrong
But who is to say, whose official and who’s not?
Ultimately we are all one people
Same features or not