Where I’m From

By Malaya Combs,

I am from the badlands of North Philly, open pill bottles, needles, guns, and drug dealers every corner that I turn… I am from a city of crime. Here, worry is the trend—who will be the next victim? I am from a city that disowns morals, its scaffolds a hierarchy of revenge.

My country is unequal. Here, to be of color—Black—is a crime. My world is brutal and cruel, unsafe and insecure.

I am from a family of morals. The wrong in the world does not take the good from us. Pictures of my grandma encourage me to learn and define.

I am the reflection of acceptance— of self, heritage. I am from the Native American, Filipino, and Hispanic cultures: honorary dances, powwows, regalia, sage, ancestral items, eating rice with my bare hands.

I am from a father who comes and goes. I am from a family not only defined by blood, but one that is bonded through actions and respect.

I’m from something so surreal, a place with big dreams, support along the way, but very little money.

I am from making anything possible. From no excuses, just possibilities—goals, and dreams beyond myself.