A poignant question rooted in rhetoric.
How do I define myself when there are so many images of me,
Through the eyes of many I’m  many things,
Through the echoes of history I’m liked to nothingness,
The essence of misfortunes my forefathers bore.
How I define myself? An enigma  wrapped in an mystery.

Through time I held  this truth to be self-evident,
To defy history, to condemn the distorted truth about me,
To nullify the justification of my existence, I objected to the
Classification of race perpetuated to the minds of those who cannot reason,
To those with misguided arguments at best and irrelevant at worst,
How do I define myself? Colour has nothing to do with it.

Looking to define myself, I met myself.
A pervasive, facile definition I was  fed since infancy was to be questioned,
As I looked deeply  into myself, disregarding the Eurocentric ideologies of my
Existence. I came to define myself by not subjecting  myself to any definition.
How do I define myself? I Stay undefined like God in who’s image I was created.