My hair is black and yours is yellow But they never call it that; Blonde, or like spun gold Stunning, precious, unattainable. But you have it, Like I’ll never have you. My hair is black but my skin Is yellow They call it that “Slant-eyed”, “foreign”, “unnatural” At eighteen, I broke black locks with bleach (I’ve always wanted to be blonde) And it didn’t look natural at all I will never be blonde, I will always be Yellow. They ask: What are you? “American, like you” But they roll their eyes They tell me to forget my native language And I don’t know how to tell them I already am Black and yellow I think of me then think of bees, and recall Being stung in the first grade, and how Ever since, I’m paralyzed at the thought Of black, and yellow Black and yellow Save the bees! on shirts and posters But no one is saving me.