being mixed is the least of my  
problems,  but it's an issue never recognized all anyone ever thinks is how great it must be. how great it is to have  light skin and have good hair and to be "ethnic" but they never realize that behind these brown eyes is a person. a person who doesn't know who they are cause they've been asked what they are too many times. a person who has put themselves in a box, limited to one race because they're afraid of being called fake. all for being themselves, who ever that is. if I act this I'm not enough this, it's hard enough being bi racial but deciding who to act like is the hardest  part. having to check one in the race box when you're really four having to repeat what you are to people so much that you just stop answering. just say yes to every question to make them go away. judging you like the color of your skin really matters. I thought we resolved this idiotic issue  over a half century ago when African Americans united to find equal ground and now the same group of people are tearing each other down based completely on the same ridiculous idea of pigment. hearing "she's not black enough" "you're too light" "shut up you can't say that you're just mixed"  because the n word is surely something only said by purebred black people and because I'm tall with a big **** I must be black but I'm pale on a scale of one to Akon so their must be white somewhere but where did those hips and those rolled R's come from she just might be Hispanic and in fact so my story is not a cliff hanger as if you care and I can't believe that this is what we fought for. the idea of equality in the black community  is being destroyed by ignorance and misplaced hatred towards ourselves. So if I'm being told through history books that we won this battle in the 60's then I'm wondering why are we still fighting ? When  we were kids it was all well and fine cause we all spoke the same strange optimistic language of curiosity but now I can't hang out with the people I grew up with that I promised to never grow apart from because somehow the language we both once spoke evolved differently over time. And now I'm stuck up because  I was taught there's a time and place for everything. Including speaking like you have an education and speaking with people your comfortable with. stop asking me what I am like it's who I am don't take the light skin and the intelligence for a weakness. I don't think I'm a chola cause a few of my friends are Mexican my name does not have an "esha" or "niqua" at the end of it cause I play basketball and I don't want to be  white because I sound intelligible so next time you ask me if my hair's a weave or where I grew up or if my mom's white as if by you knowing my racial backgrounds you may actually know a speck about who Ciarra is and  Even if I answer these questions you still don't know me. so next time you speak spanish at me or you try to ask me what I am like it's my life story. remember ignorance isn't bliss.

you strive for perfection
gotta be the smartest
gotta be the best
A's and B's are the only grades your eyes will view
you, check your Parentlink religiously
20 hour days in attempts to prove something to someone who probably doesn't care
no social life, no
your best friends are Microsoft word and flash card apps
a boyfriend?
why of course his first name is no, last name homework... but ever so often you cheat on him with a good nights sleep
a good nights sleep that replaces the memories you're supposed to be making
the high school years you're supposed to be enjoying
late nights partying?
more like late nights cramming
Saturday matinees ?
more like Saturday SAT prep
and when you finally cross the finish line and get your diploma it all settles
it all settles in that no one cares
you go to college and there's a campus full just like you
a bunch of high gpa's and low social lives
and you still have yet to realize you're just a factory worker in training
you treat college just like high school
a 21 year old unemployed ****** with expectations that have just been kicked in the stomach
nose in the books as apposed to the sky
no dreams just harsh realities
it all marinates with you mentally that you just studied a complete 8 years of your life away when you become a nothing but a statistic
no longer the best
no longer the smartest
an average salary
an average job
and an average life
with no memories to reminisce on
no crazy college stories to tell your boring spouse
no cute high school sweetheart stories to tell your boring kids  
and now all you have is emptiness and a cubicle
because while preparing for your future you lost sight of the present
in attempts to be a young adult you forgot to be a teenager
you climbed uphill mountains to live the middle class life you avoided and now you're just hoping that someone will take you seriously when you put "Honor Roll student" and "passed Calculus" in your obituary because other then reproducing a couple more pencil pushers you've accomplished nothing
and no, no I'm not pessimist I take things for what they are
and living unfulfilled, or having no "yolo" moments in your life is not something that should be taken lightly
we, break our backs and blister our hands to end up making 30 thousand dollars a year  
and for what
to be another functioning member of society
did you ever have dreams?
or did practicality and necessity beat those useless obliterating hopes?
the only momentos you have from your wild years is your diplomas and your regrets
there is no praise for the high school student who partied away their future
but next to alien species finding a healthy balance is the least known thing to man
so
live fully, live honestly, shine brightly, fulfill every hope, fill every crack, fold every crease attempt every dream, leave your doors open, for someone less fortunate then you couldn't unlock one if they got a miracle
life slows down for no one.
don't forget to take a moment, to stop and smell the roses.

Sometimes in the darkness when I'm doing my nightly cries
I think about that day
that you passed away
and then I'm saddened because I can't recall our last words
and then I'm saddened even more because no one's ever told me yours.
I often shed the most tears
because you were the main person supporting me through all these years
constantly asking me and wanting to know about school
I smile, then I think..I don't remember the last time I told you I loved you.
I was once told that the only way out is through
but I don't know how to get myself to stop missing you.
every reminder of your presence brings on a memory and every memory brings out the tears
but I'm ready to switch gears
almost a year later and it still hurts and I'm not sure how to feel
my soul is torn and I'm not sure how to heal
you were apart of me and you will always will be
I always imagine that moment when dad told you "her name is gonna be Ciarra Renee, the middle one like yours see"
when I fill out forms or have to say my middle name
I'm constantly reminded that you're probably the reason I'm a little bit insane
and also that you are an inspiration to me & didn't die in vain
all these things because of you, I was blessed enough to gain
I wish I could've repaid you
or express to you how much I appreciate you
God or someone must really love me, to give you to us for a whole 6 decades..
and no matter how long you're gone, your memory will never fade.
tears in my eyes as I write this, I wonder how proud you would be of my grades
I hope you all hear the strength I'm my voice, when I say
that sometimes I'm not okay, and that's okay
because,
I miss your warmth, more than a baby misses it's mothers..like a niece misses her favorite aunts
to have you back I would put aside my desires and my wants
but as the universe loves to remind me every birthday holiday or live event, you're not
so before i repress my
Feelings and tell myself to stop
I want you to know if you're out there that I love you more than the sea loves to kiss the shorline
and that to me you did not die
*but just became a greater part of me.

I'm no teen mom enthusiast and am light years ahead of her existence but if I, were to ever have a child
she would be everything like me
but her experiences would be nothing like mine
she will have two parents under one roof, who love each other more than the stars love to kiss the sky
She will know nothing of divorce or step somethings or mom or dads new lover
because her parents will love nothing more than each other
Besides her
and she will be reminded of this daily
not just in actions but in words
and three words, that she will know nothing of are
sadness, stress and struggle
three words that frequent my lips so much that they forget how to rise for a smile
and my baby will be aware that she was conceived with intentions that's right
even if she won't want to
and I will be nothing but honest with her
except what is not meant for her ears
because I know what it's like to acquire knowledge and wisdom well beyond your years
and I will thank God Allah and anyone else whose willing to take credit for each year that she becomes more lovely
and she will know that I've cherished every moment of her growth
even when she transitioned from peanut
to peanut with limbs
and as her life sprouts from my body and my belly begins to grow I will sing to her
and let her know that she'll never have to worry not a moment of her existence
her father and I, will kiss the ground she walks on
because we will know that this kind of love doesn't come every other weekend
and neither does a child to 2 loving parents
she will be wanted and appreciated equally and immensely
when I hug her I want her to feel the way my lungs capture air
as if savoring the fact that she does too
when she lays on my chest I want her to hear my heartbeat and recognize that it does so for her
and that every waking moment with her prescience is held precious and special
and when she feels my kiss on her forehead I want her to feel the immeasurable space she fills within me
as if knowing that a hole has existed for her there as long as I have been alive
I will love everything about her, even the stuff I'll hate
and
the lack of sleep, ***** diapers, and eventually teenage sarcasm
will mean more to me than anything God could ever create
her existence will become my everything
because the very thought of it already is
and everything that I will do, I will do so in thought of her
every move I make and gasp of air that I take will simply ensure that she and her family will always be alright
I will teach her more than 13 years of school ever will
although if she ever needs math help I'm probably not the one to ask
I will teach her that being a woman wont be easy, but sometimes neither will being alive
I will teach her that sometimes life will knock you down, and when you think you're ready to get back up sadness will be there with open arms ready to sock you in the stomach
but before she even thinks of feeling alone or misunderstood
I want her to know that my existence persists to make her happy
because baby I've been there
in fact I've been there so much that I can comp a buffet or 2
she will know that nothing worth having comes easy
and nothing that comes easy is worth having
and that her mother may not know a lot of practical or day to day information
but can recite more poetry and lyrics than any other mom on the block
and has more love than all of the other mothers combined
because she has had so much love to share, but no one to give it to
she will know that sometimes this world is cruel and cold, but often ever so warm
and I will teach her to never confuse the two temperatures because deceit is nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing
ready for you to pet it so it can bite
and that's just life
and I realize I cannot prevent her from ever feeling hurt
but I'll sure as hell try
she will grow to understand that her mother can be brash and outspoken, because
keeping quiet about injustice is not only incomprehensible, but virtually impossible
but so is speaking without considerable thought
my daughter will have anything and everything she wants,
as long as she deserves it
and  the thought of lack of funds will never exist
she will understand the struggle and dynamic of poverty
but will never know it firsthand
every move she makes I will try and watch even if that is also impossible
but she will also grow to understand that even though her momma is worrier, she is also a warrior
and that her poppa is always there to remind his daughter that although not everyone is worth saving,
she and her momma are
my baby will know that if she ever falls that her parents will be there arms out wide
ready to catch her
because no matter what she's done
we're here with nothing but love
and no matter how many fictional vampires or celebrities she falls I love with,
she will know that no ones skin radiates with love for her,
more than her mothers
and before she ever feels worthless or not good enough I well let her know,
that she is everything and more to her mother
if that means anything
and if it doesn't I will let her know that she is the descendant of a woman who has felt so helplessly lost in the ocean of her own depth
and that woman is the descendant of two parents who love her but may not 've known how to love her properly
so before she ever sheds a tear or becomes weak I will let her know that I've done enough of that for the both of us
and that there will be days that all feel like Monday morning
but if I can make it through she can too
and she will know that she is the daughter of two incredible parents,
who love nothing more than each other
besides her

the amount of melanin in my skin often seems to conjure up some controversy so when I sit down to write and I see my hands, my light skinned not quite black but surely not white hands I think about the privileges thrusted upon me and when I begin to write I feel my hair against my back, my curly ***** but not quite ***** hair I wonder how what's on my head could make what's in it so frazzled
I often frustrate myself because I feel like my writing often centers around the fact that I am a woman and I am colored
and the fact that when I say I'm colored some look lost
in fact, in the film, for colored girls
Thandie Newton's character says "being alive and being a woman is all I got, but being colored is a metaphysical dilemma I haven't conquered yet."
and I found it frightening how relatable that was to me, being that I'm not quite almost a woman and not quite almost colored
but when I look at my poems they reflect that I indeed am
even though I'm lightskinned and I'm 16 and according to my white friends I'm, just like them because, as I've discovered our definitions of what a black girl sounds like and acts like and is like are extremely different
and I guess that reflects on who we've been introduced to
I have cousins and aunts and grandmothers and sisters
who represent what I believe emulate what a black woman is
and these white kids see what the media feeds about how black women walk and talk and act and lack
see when I picture a black woman I see beautiful smooth chocolate skin full lips round ******* wide hips and a smile as brilliant as her mind
when these kids picture a black woman they see ***** hair dark undesirable skin soup cooler lips and a mind filled with ignorance
and this is where my struggle begins
But in every ethnic group there is good and bad
and I am sick of black women only being associated with the bad
the fact that when most non blacks think of what a black woman is, they imagine an unintelligible mindless sassy loud mouth is over whelming to me
if you're skin isn't light enough or your behind isn't big enough you're only "pretty for a black girl"
I not only want to raise but destroy all expectations society gives black women
but I cannot do this alone
because we are smart and we are beautiful
we are troubled and we are strong
and we are one
once we stop tearing eachother down we can all be one
and I'm not sure why god blessed black women with so much beauty or why I'm so blessed to be one or why he put this determination in me but I think I will recognize it the day the world recognizes how beautiful are we.