I dedicate this poem to professors.
Let’s dive in brilliant professor.
Won’t buy me food
Won’t buy me a home
Won’t feed my children
Won’t carve out a life among hearts of stone
Won’t coach me through writing a mauscript,
or increase my publications!
I mean for funding, imagine such a justification.
just saying for clarification
On job descriptions, I hate to tell
Brilliance isn’t an accepted qualification
For a new hire, with my origin, and accent
Brilliance turned out to be a bit of a hard sell!
I must say is an unrequired skill for those
who have merit
and heaps of privilege spill
Won’t show my intellect,
or convince my colleagues that I have some
Since having children in the academy
apparently diminishes a woman’s intellect to none
Won’t make me a more respected immigrant
It won’t make me sooth your ears with Standard English tones
or Dash my voice with an accent
more harmonious with your Xenophobic bones
So Dear White Professor
Won’t make me feel more powerful
or less scared
When in your silence,
you give out in excess
such positive vibes
unworthy of access
on my entire educational progress
Won’t coach me through the ways you want me to write
Won’t make My English less broken
It won’t help you raise the base-line
You’ve already set it at inadequate.