I search for depths that don’t exist
in tints of darker colors in the sea of milk flowing
inside the electronic, story-telling canvases.
In your shimmering, brand-new black sneakers from a benevolent brand
that forgets to untick the box of their cheap overseas workers.
In yesterday’s protest where you took a stunning portrait—
with posters and all, your feed will look vibrant.

I don’t find depth in being called a representation,
representing nearly half of the world
in front of a small fraction of the global population,
for the silver screen reproduces cliches for one that looks different,
the shoes symbolize one’s dreary survival,
and your laughter in the protests contrasts with a history unacknowledged.

Come see. We have our moving pictures, too.
Songs that move hearts. Enchanting dances that make you trance.
Handwoven embroidered silk, rich in natural patterns.
If you wear them with love, it’s not appropriation. We are flattered by your admiration.
We’ll have that salivating sweet, greasy, sticky stuff as dessert.
We speak your language, but you don’t.
Don’t worry, you can always learn. Just as we did.
Let’s celebrate all cultures, the way we celebrate yours.

You don’t have to reserve a flight.
The world is advanced now
to go around the globe just by sitting at your desk.

Come and see,
’cause here, my depths exist
in the way they should be.

---

When @breathwords gave me four prompt options for the June project of #firstlinepoets @firstlinepoets by @emmajanepoetry on Instagram, this line was actually my first choice. But no matter how hard I racked my brain when I read, “I search for depths that don’t exist”, the word “performative” kept popping into my head. The movies I watched and the news I edited about corporations’ superficial activism flashed before my eyes. I guess I had no choice but to pursue the calling.

It wasn’t easy to write this. I feared I would offend and rub people the wrong way, which would defeat the poem’s purpose of promoting mutual understanding. I had to consult with some friends (Dalton to the rescue) before deciding to post this piece on my blog, refining it again and again to avoid misunderstanding.

I won’t be able to please everyone, but I feel like I have said what I have to say and am fulfilled by finishing the piece. This is not an official submission but more of a keepsake of the collaborative efforts I made to write it. Many thanks and credit to @breathwords for the first line (and title).