Could it be possible that I’m worth more than my ******?
When you look at me what do you see?

Because I am frightened by your eager eyes.
I am nervous at the way you so openly ask me,
“Are you married? What is your age?”
I pray in my mind that I’m just being naive.
Not every man is seeking to make you their toy.

But as I walk down the street, foreign tongues caress my ears,
Eyes poke at my curves,
Hands reach to cage me.

I am American.
I am white.
I am a college graduate.
I have a credit card.
I have a savings account.

But these things about me are not an excuse.
My skin may shine in the sun,
my belly may be well fed,
my privilege may make you jealous,
So hate me for my birthright,
But let me be free.

I am not here to save you.
I am not here to please you.

But let this be a lesson.
Let this interaction give me courage and hope that maybe you really do only want to talk.
Let my mind stop alerting my adrenaline to run so that when I need to I can outrun you.
Let this be a peace offering.
Let me tell you that I am American,
But that doesn't mean I’m a dollar sign.
That doesn’t mean I’m better than you.
It means that I was lucky.
Know that I am sorry.

I am not here to save you.
I am not here to please you.
I am here to be with you.