You always say you’re here for me but is it really true?
Do you really see me; can you truly see the truth?
Am I just another object, something else here in your life?
Or do you really love me; will you go with me through the fight?
Am I facing the pressure all alone, do I have you by my side?
Will you stay with me forever, hold me close and be my guide?
If I stumble or fall and hit the ground, when the tears come to my eyes,
Will you stop and sit and help me, wipe the tears when I start to cry
If I know up ahead, it’s gonna get rough and there’s no place left to hide
Will you take my hand, embrace me, hold me there until we die,
Because a battle’s not a battle unless you face it with a friend,
And I just want to hear you say “I’m with you till the end.”

Look at my face

Look at it right now

What do you see?

You know what, no I’m going to tell you what you see.

You see black.

Look at my hands

What do you see?

You see black.

Do you even need to look at my nose before you assume that it’s large?

Are my lips the same?

Do you even try to get to know me before you assume that I play by the rules of the stereotypical
“black” game?

When will people realize, when will people realize that we are not the stereotype that has been forced
upon us.

So many of us spend so much time trying to break through these minds of the people who see us for one thing. Black.

Now don’t get me wrong.

Black is important

Black is strong

Black is independent

Black is beautiful

I don’t need you to tell me that you’re surprised that I don’t speak “ghetto”

I don’t need you to tell me that you expect me to be a **** and walk around in stilettos

And I don’t need you to tell me that I’m inferior to you because my skin color doesn't fit your regimen.

No. I will not, I will not be defined by my melanin.

But I will let it push me to be the person that you so clearly doubt I can be.

I will let it excel me to levels of understanding and acceptance that you will never see.

I am more than my stereotype.

You expect me to stand here and pull a gun?

You expect me to stand here and say that I don’t know who my father is?

Or do you want to hear that I’m pregnant?

And all those questions are okay, right?

Because my feelings obviously come second

No.

I refuse to be reduced to how much melanin is in my skin

I refuse to stand here and listen to people tell me that it is a sin

To be proud of my race.

To be proud of my ethnicity.

And to not keep it bottled in.

Look at my face

Look at it right now

And tell me what you see