Mariange Marlene

In in kindergarten, I covered my Barbie in whiteout.

Said her plastic skin was too dark.

In first grade, I saw Paris Jackson on TV.

Her crystal blue eyes and porcelain skin mesmerized me.

So, I said I wanted to be that kind of black girl.

In second grade I had my first crush.

But cupid’s bow must have landed somewhere else.

Cause that pretty little white  boy didn’t look at me.

I told myself I was probably too dark for him.

In fifth grade, I begged my mom for a doobie.

Said my hair was prettier when it hung like an ebony curtain.

In seventh grade, I tried to starve myself.

Despised the way my thighs were the elephant in the room.

In eighth grade, I showered in the praises of being called a pretty black girl.

Said damn, I must be special. In eleventh grade, I looked at my body and cried.

Said, those thunder thighs, and big brown eyes are beautiful;

And they're mine.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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