Paradox

Black skin gleaming

sweat dripping down

blue jeans up to my belly button

Freshmen mixer

 black stands out

 black is no camouflage

 black is

When I was 15 a friend said to me Mimi you are the whitest black girl I know

confusion

delusion

dissipating assurance

do I scare you?

I am societal standards

 a product of constructed expectations

Abiding by the rules.

 Once again repeating what my mother said.

  Fake smile.  Fake laugh.  I squeak out a barley audible.

“Thanks”

The scars run deep

Underneath the surface

Black is the platonic plates

Small shifts create lasting

change

obliteration

crimson rushing between pen and paper.

My veins pulsate. 

Black is hymns of my grandmother.

Standing in Alabama coming home from college

Get an education they say.  She was doing the right thing.

Bad things happen to good people.  Good things happen to bad people.

I must be bad.

Rain crushing her bright peacoat as lightning strikes her newly purchased Mary Janes

A woman with truths. 

Wondering if I will be like that.

Or will I be jaded.

By my privilege.

Privilege is me going to college.  Me being the exception.

Privilege is the ability to turn on the TV and see people like you.

Without having to turn to BET.

When I was 6 I wanted to have blonde hair

the long flowing locks

of golden gravy like aunt Adriane cooking stuffing

me in the kitchen mixing the batter spilling

as the greens, black eyed peas and fried chicken swell in my stomach

 those truths you combine into late night Comedy Central humor

Mimi show us how to dance.

  Repeat Fake smile.  Fake laugh. 

“of course.”

you see me in the halls you hear me in class but I hear you

ratchet

 ghetto

I wish I could look you in the eyes

In the crevice between your retina and the ignorance of your mind

 and tell you my skin is not a qualifier or a restriction

I scream in my soul.

 Bursting. 

Gripping the rails as I fall quickly into preconceived notions.

A token of diversity in a cookie – cutter world.

Here I stand drenched in privilege.

I have no right to complain.

Black is being black but not black enough.

White but not white enough.

Blood rushed through the streets of Salma so I could stand here today and plead.

Accept me.

All of me or none.

 

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