The Beauty of Color

             

I stand in the mirror and look at my face

Wondering why this dark shade of brown continues to exist as a disgrace.

I don’t understand why one judges another by the color of their skin

Or why the color brown, black or yellow is simply thrown away, like waste in the trash bin.

Everywhere I go, disrespectful stares and subtle racial slurs greet me.

But in a matter of time I will sit on the throne, while I look down upon them.

 

The beauty of color lies in our eyes,

Defining our culture and nationalistic pride.

The beauty lies in the eye of the beholder -

not a cliché,

but a truthful statement one can use everyday.

Black is beautiful.

As is caramel, enriched Hispanic skin

But white exists as the base of all colors;

a simple pigmentation that gives birth to all other colors.

The reason why the “inferior” races resemble that of Caucasian.

 

I just don’t understand.

Why can’t we celebrate our own national pigmentations

without the judgmental stares of superior faces,

especially when criticized by the power of those common racial speculations?

 

Sixty years ago racial equality existed as a myth,

but a day cannot pass without pleading the fifth.

These questions remain senseless.

No, just because I’m black doesn’t mean I steal and rob!

Sixty years ago we couldn’t even obtain a job.

I won’t have six babies just ‘cause I’m Latina, and yes, I do have an education

Contrary to the popular belief of racial discrimination.

 

 

Colorful skin continues to remain in shelter, waiting for its chance of exposure

Don’t you see?

We all possess it, the ability to stand and fight for the revitalization of our diverse skin;

alas, we must all regard each other as ethnic kin

commonly joined by this one belief:

To “judge us, not by the color of our skin, but by the content of our character”[1]

for our charisma and color speak louder than words.

So let us shout to the heavens.

Let God and his angels hear

That the color of our skin exists

more than the color of a Crayola crayon.

 

Let him hear that the color of my skin

Doesn’t spell my name

but the basis of my culture.

That is the beauty of color.

Don’t you see?

 

[1] King, Jr., Martin Luter. “I Have a Dream”. Lincoln Memorial, Washington, D.C.  August 28, 1963. Address at March on Washington for American Civil Rights Movement.