Almost Black

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,

So let’s break all fear

And recognize that skin

Shouldn’t define life

Or what is real.

Black lives matter!

Indeed, they do.

So why do our

Black lives only matter,

When we’re as black

as you?

One thought on “Almost Black”

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