Some call me white girl;

Light skinned; mulatto.

Others aren’t so nice–they tell me,

“I’m wanna be black,

But don’t talk, don’t act.”

 

When I was younger,

My defense would go:

“My skin’s light, but my daddy’s black.

My brother is black.

My grandpa is too.

 

My knees get ashy.

My hair gets frizzy.

Behind me, you’ll find a booty.

And my black daddy

Gots baby mommies.”

 

Why is it these things

Defend my black pride?

Who gets to define true black life?

Black culture is real;

Exclusive; not white.

 

My mixed brother once

Told our white mommy,

“You aren’t my mom because you’re white.

I am full black so

How can I be white?”

 

Why did my brother

Feel white made him lack?

Was it because he’s called white boy;

Light skinned; not full black?

Shame–led his attack?

 

Or was it because

Of all the cracked jokes

Implying we act certain ways

If we wish to be

Part of the black race?

 

We all see the hurt.

We all hear the fear.

But may we recognize that skin

Shouldn’t define life

Or level of pride.

 

Black lives matter!

Indeed, they do.

So why does our

Black life only matter,

When we’re as black as you?

 

Now you see why

“Black Lives Matter”

Is a movement

Challenging to accept–

My black life’s lost; ersatz.

 

Dr. King knew

The solution:

Education

Gives power, acceptance

Shows love–the real answer.

 

Thank you for reading.

With love,

-KelseyWithSomeJo ❤

Watch the video of me reciting my poem here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tYWcXzyBTGA&feature=youtu.be

 

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