Am I Privileged? A Poem.

A Poem about Privilege

As part of my Writing for Social Change course I wrote a piece of prose entitled Am I Privileged.

This isn’t the piece – this is a poem I have written that shares with you just a few sentences from my memoir. It makes me realise how much there is to develop.

Am I Privileged?

You are privileged, aren’t you?
You are lucky?
I hear you say.
You live in a beautiful home.
In a beautiful place
Next to the sea. Bliss.

Really – you think I’m privileged.
You think I’m lucky.
I’m not.
And never have been.

Have a few minutes?
Let’s make a cuppa.
Sit down. Get comfy.
And let me tell you my story,
Then tell me whether you think
I’m privileged or not.

People don’t know about the back to back houses
In Beeston where I was born.
One of the most deprived areas in the County.
Still is.

People don’t know about
The lack of sanitation.
Outside toilets shared by others.
Newspaper for toilet roll
Cut into little squares.
No sinks.

Po under the bed
For number one’s and number two’s
Those elaborate po’s you see in the antique shops
They’re real. They were used.
Nostalgia my… mmm
Best not say what I want to.

People don’t know about the steep stairs,
The tiny kitchens.
The damp. The black walls.
The misery.
Lack of central heating.
Coal fires and coal holes

Nostalgia surrounds the back to backs
But they were death traps
One door in; one door out.
The front door.

Many of my family lived in these houses.
In these dank houses of despair
Before they were pulled down
To make way for others.
I’d say thank god
But as you know, I don’t believe.
How can I?

At least we weren’t homeless.