This is the fifth in a series of poems from a forthcoming poetry collection about raising a biracial daughter in Contemporary America, during this polarizing time of political and cultural upheavals where sexual harassment allegations abound, where a wall, literal and figurative, threatens to keep out immigrants like the narrator, a former refugee and child survivor of the Cambodian Genocide. You can find the complete series of links below.
Women’s March in Albany
I take Chanda out of the stroller,
lift her high up over my head,
and put her on my shoulders.
So she can see that she’s never alone.
We are here for her, my wife and I,
and other women and men too.
We will march city streets,
climb mountains, and cross rivers
and jungles to let her know.
Our strength is in our love for her.
And her strength is felt in the trembling
ground, the demands for autonomy,
respect and decency, no woman
left behind, in speaking up and out,
in hollering and screaming. In songs.
About the Author: Bunkong Tuon is the author of Gruel (2015) and And So I Was Blessed (2017), both poetry collections published by NYQ Books, and a regular contributor to Cultural Weekly He is also an associate professor of English and Asian Studies at Union College, in Schenectady, NY.
Bunkong Tuon’s series of poems on raising a biracial daughter in contemporary America:
Image Credit: “Suffragettes riding float…New York Fair, Yonkers” (1913) The Library of Congress