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Once Upon A Time... There was a princess named Rapunzel Born of a Black father and a White mother, Rapunzel was praised for her curly hair Natural curls
Written broadly against my chest I say "I am Other" That's who I am I am not this or that I am other I am the child who is always asked What are you my friend? They say
When you look at me, what do you see? I would hope that it would be my personality But That is not what society has taught you, me… we. You see my #TBT, selfies and who follows me But
Because I have imperfect Spanish, I am never Mexican enough to those who speak better than me Because I have imperfect English, I am always too Mexican for those who speak better than me
“Yo soy morena-clara.” I am in the middle of the spectrum, between dark cocoa and light vanilla skin. I am caramel mocha or medium deep according to makeup industries.
Ethnicity, an identifier to some, a misfortune to others... to her. She hides, her true identity under a body she feels isn't her own, Mocked behind closed doors
I am incapable of self-identifying. Everything I'd claim, you'd think I'm lying. How can I say I am "made in America," when I am a product assembled with
One It is about time you realized that you are black you still don’t know what that means But one day you will And you will never have felt more beautiful or misunderstood
I Am Two By: Autumn Alston I am two. Two worlds forged together, each crippled by negative history, Two forces, diametrically opposed, when combined, producing a mystery.
Black and white. The swirl is right. Being interaccial is the way God made me and there aint no changing baby. Curly hair, tan skin why loose when you can win ?
Don't discern me to be rude, I'm not up to talk of all the bothersome things racing in and out of my mind All thoughts of perplexity Zoning in and out, Breathe. Anger rushes to me,
When he asked si celebro Christmas, I responded with a yes and a question. "We don't do much no gifts no commercialism not much at all because there is
They tell my people to go back to their country as if our nation's origin didn't come from immigrants.
I am a Brown Skinned Girl Constantly being judged Thinking, is it my eyes, my hair my long brown curls
I am caught between The play of light From scene to scene Alternating Absence Excess But I digress to Moral outrage and despair uplifting thoughts
Let's get drunk, and have drunk sex. So when we wake up, we can't be upset. There's no recollection of the night before, we'll let confusion walk, right out the door. Though underneath forgotten memories,
What It's Like To Be a Mixed Girl (for those of you who aren't) First of all, it's feeling like you fit in and then one day someone different appears in the mirror.
They've enjoyed our waiting They've indulged in lies They've prolonged discussions They've listened to our cries I've lurked in the shadows too long
What. Is America? Is it the juxtaposition of pink toned flesh against deep caramel skin? Is it the way his tresses twist and turn whilst her strands lay straight and silky?
I am stricken with the paint of bigots, Cast in the colors they throw on me. I am mulatto, all coffee and cream. But when I am looked at, not seen, but looked at,