Some call me white girl;
Light skinned; mulatto.
Others aren’t so nice–they tell me,
“I’m wanna be black,
But don’t talk, don’t act.”
When I was younger,
My defense would go:
“My skin’s light, but my daddy’s black.
My brother is black.
My grandpa is too.
My knees get ashy.
My hair gets frizzy.
Behind me, you’ll find a booty.
And my black daddy
Gots baby mommies.”
Why is it these things
Defend my black pride?
Who gets to define true black life?
Black culture is real;
Exclusive; not white.
My mixed brother once
Told our white mommy,
“You aren’t my mom because you’re white.
I am full black so
How can I be white?”
Why did my brother
Feel white made him lack?
Was it because he’s called white boy;
Light skinned; not full black?
Shame–led his attack?
Or was it because
Of all the cracked jokes
Implying we act certain ways
If we wish to be
Part of the black race?
We all see the hurt,
So let’s break all fear
And recognize that skin
Shouldn’t define life
Or what is real.
Black lives matter!
Indeed, they do.
So why does our
Black life only matter,
When we’re as black
Or as white as you?
– Kelsey Wit Some Jo
Well said Kelsey Jo. Only can those who have a mixed race, can truly relate to what you experienced.
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