“Do we sit and watch our world burn? Do we dig deeper as it struggles to turn? Do we slowly lose our human will? Do we all just stay there, standing still? Is this the price of paradise?”
“Please, please bring my father back.”
“My Asian heritage makes me feel like an outsider, always looking in.”
Are these words you would expect to hear from someone currently walking the halls of a high school? Or a middle school? Probably not. But they were written by young artists in grades 7 through 12 and performed at My Voice. My Time!, the COMPAS youth Spoken Word showcase, held on April 30 at the Black Business Enterprises headquarters in downtown Minneapolis. In front of a packed audience of 92 supporters, these young artists took the stage to perform original Spoken Word poetry.
Adults often talk about young people as if they’re future people. Future leaders. Future voters. Future citizens. Future thinkers. Future changemakers. The implication is that the important part comes later.
But when the first young poet stepped up to the mic, that idea stopped making sense. This was My Voice. My Time! And these young people had something to say. Through workshops led by COMPAS Principal Teaching Artist Frank Sentwali, they had transformed personal experiences, questions, and observations into original Spoken Word poetry. Over the course of the evening, it became clear that these artists weren’t waiting for adulthood to engage with the world. They were doing it right now.
One young poet, grieving the death of his father, wrote about seeing an old photograph and realizing his father hadn’t disappeared completely. His traits, face, voice, and DNA were passed down to his son: “I am proof that he was here.” Another described a self that only exists at the microphone: ”Up here, I am large. My very words take up space. Everywhere else, my words are quiet, whispers lost in the wind.”
One pushed back on every adult who has ever dismissed a young person’s feelings: “We can’t drive, can’t vote, can’t stay up late, but we can feel.”
Others examined mental health, discrimination, and the experience of growing up feeling unheard. And still others looked outward, at war, incarceration, and the state of the world, with one poet asking a question that hung in the air long after the poem ended: “Do we sit and watch our world burn?”
The subjects ranged widely, but what didn’t was the seriousness with which every young poet approached them. Here’s the thing: Programs like My Voice. My Time! don’t give young people something to say. They already have something to say. What they need are the tools, the stage, and an audience willing to listen. In our work at COMPAS, we see this truth demonstrated every day.
Beneath every poem that evening was an unspoken question: Will someone hear me?
For one evening, at least, the answer was yes.
The young artists who took the stage weren’t offering previews of the adults they might someday become. They were introducing us to the people they already are.
The only question is whether we’re ready to listen. Because the youth definitely got something to say.
Fortunately, you don’t have to imagine what that sounded like. Visit the My Voice. My Time! webpage to learn more about that magical night. Watch videos of each performance. Explore photos from the event. And most importantly, hear these young poets in their own words.
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