Not urine stained or overcast, cast over me the tinted hue of my colored skin
Colored beautiful by the sun
I caught myself questioning why?
About my reason and fight for colored skin or lack thereof was the definition of who you would be, Or who they want you to be anyway
Like white is good , evil is black ,you're taught that from the start or so it seemed
In retrospect I remember it didn't always matter to me until I heard the whispers of grown folks in my ear saying softly in harsh voices not directly at me but in my direction that it made you, Your color makes you.
Now grown I made up my own mind,� the mind I own and decided like we who have not been rotted or spoiled by the� pulls of conformity; Only I can choose what I see
And for those not like me, Well to hell with those not like me.
I'll stand strong and alone if must be
Marching forward; Remaining separate but equal as so I don't forget my history, my ancestors journey on calloused feet carrying their broken souls in hand so I could see that Nubian is who I was meant to be; pale shaded
It was meant for me, like a sea over churning and bounding up for something greater in the hopes that one day sooner rather than later I would be seen and crowned Queen of my own domain for the things that mean more than where I come from
And when that day comes-- I'll thank the sun.
"For being told I don't have a choice. For being forced to choose. For feeling like I don't have a place in the world. For finding one... in me."