I Am Sick (An "I Am" poem)

I am sick
Of feeling guilty at the slightest offense
But only if it would offend someone who
Is a minority in my country.

I am tired
Of having to explain myself
Because I have an opinion
That doesn't involve me bowing down
To someone who was once oppressed;
Or maybe still is.

I am frustrated
With the fact no-one is past name-calling
And petty insults, things we should have
Put behind us:
instead, the youngest people
Understand more.

I am sick
Of you thinking that my white privilege
Means I haven't suffered,
Or that the fact I am straight,
With genitalia that matches my gender,
Means I have no right
To say anything.

I am tired
Of silence.

I am frustrated
Because maybe
We could get along.

I am white.
I am cisgendered.
I am heterosexual.
I am opinionated.
I am equal to you.
Not greater, not lesser.

I am allowed to have my opinion
And say it without having to
Feel guilt or explain myself.

You can hate me;
But I am not guilty of a crime.
I do not hate you.

I am filled with love,
To the infinities,
And just because I disagree,
Doesn't change the fact
That I do care.

I am a member of an exclusive club
Where the only price to pay
Is giving up your hatred
And feeling confident in your opinions.

I am tired
Of silence.
So I have changed.