Hello from the other side.
A darker side of life where you are the last brown crayon to be picked in the box.
So you feel worthless
so you start scraping away who you are
until you realize no matter how much you try to draw out a new "race"
you will always be brown.
You don't get it.
You won't get it unless you step into my shoes and get stared at the way that I do.
Hiding from the sun to refrain from getting darker.
Acting "white" to refrain from being called ghetto.
Sharing beds with my sister to refrain from paying more rent
Straightening my hair to refrain from having an afro
Going to college to refrain from being called uneducated
Singing in churches to refrain from going down the wrong path
Not driving alone to refrain from getting killed in the hands of a policeman
Speaking my own poetry to refrain from going unheard
You might not know who I am now
but hello, it's me.
I am a chocolate girl;
priced at only 50 cents a pop
when I should be wrapped in gold.
Constantly being left on the bottom shelf.
Screaming, and crying but no one seems to hear me cry for help.
Is it because I’m a Negro?
Forms of a word that I must swallow.
Unwanted, black and unattractive;
Words that replace beautiful.
I’m so sick and tired of losing this race about race
always having to pick up the pace
history and culture erased
and replaced by the whip and the nae nae
Some of us are even ashamed to say that Africa is our birthplace
So don't you dare ignore that our ancestors were slaves
Our chocolate Melanin underrated for its style and grace
I can't believe whether I get the job
is still determined by the color of my face
even though a black man already ran the United States.
Back into your memory
I need you to trace
let's think back to a case
back to that time when Trayvon Martin got shot in Florida state
When buying skittles and wearing a hoodie was a careless mistake.
While Zimmerman waited on his fate
The streets flooded with pain and hate
Prostesting was the only way
to tell the world to no longer discrimate
None of this should've happened in the first place
So don't ask me if my hair is real
And no you can not touch it.
Don't ask me if I listen to rap.
Don't ask me if I play ball.
Don't ask me if my dad left me.
Don't ask me if I'm on welfare.
Don't ask me if I like watermelon or chicken better.
Don't ask me If I was born in Brooklyn.
Don't ask me If I've ever gotten in a fight
Don't ask me
because you probably already think
the answer is yes.
So forget you.
I am not THAT black girl.
I am not ghetto.
I am not a statistic.
I am me.