my face-wash is a whitening cream
but what if i don't want to be white?
what if i just want my skin to be clean
since when did white and clean begin to come in the same package?
are white people the poster-children of cleanliness
because they've washed their hands
with the blood of my ancestors?

am i *****
because i have not?

it bothers me when my grandmother tells me
that i am lucky
because i was born the fairer one of the two sisters
she says she fears for what i would have looked like
had my colored mother not fallen in love with a white man
mixing her ***** genes with his pure ones
to create a mix-bred child, who, in any case
was better than being born brown.

it would have been a sin
for me to have colored skin

i am still dealing with the remnants of my colonial past
because i am still afraid of telling my mother
that i am in love with a colored man
she will accept him because he is loving and kind
but in the back of her mind
there will be a little voice that whispers
wouldn't it have been better if he was white instead?

and i've heard a lot of people tell me
"thank God your hair is the right kind of curly
not the frizzy, afro-like hair
wild and free
thank God your hair is tame
thank God your hair falls in neat little curls
(you got your dad’s genes!)
thank God
we can hold it
and mold it
into what we like
thank God your hair is the right
kind of curly."

you see my mom escaped by marrying a man with white skin
but with me the cycle begins again
because he's two shades darker
and my children will be too
the white genes of their grandfather
lost
among the dark genes of their father-
with chocolate eyes and hazel skin

i am still struggling to see at my father
as one of "us" and not one of *"them"

What a question
skin woven as threads of canvas
interpret this face
quite a tapestry of biological traits
ask again like I’m not even a who
you’ll ring ring and ring
but artwork will never get back to you

As a child, I was blessed
Light skin, in a white world
I had white friends, white teachers
I had white pastors, white family
That was everything that I knew to be

I had some black friends, a black teacher
I had a black pastor, black family
I saw color, I saw the differences
I saw white friends hating my black friends
I saw white teachers demean black students
I saw white christians leave the black pastor
I saw family both white and black love me just the same.

Hate is taught.
But birds of a feather
Flock together
And I flew with any breeze
That would have me.

With wiser eyes
With years behind me,
I've flown with the gentle stream
A birds eye view of an unchanging world
So I've decided to test the current
To soar with broken wings
Famished dreams
Onwards to freedom

White skin
Black blood
Devil's curls
Eyes that pierce

You couldn't pick me from the crowd
And say that I was black
But I'll be **** sure, you're aware of that

I've got a chip on my shoulder
With a furrowed brow
And vendettas whispered from the graves

Silence was compliance
Now I'm screaming loud

Dear Colin

What an inspiration
A role model
See I know how you feel
I'm like you
Mixed race, perspectives of two

From a young age
And to this day I'm ashamed
I hated my blackness
I saw what the world offered them
So I didn't want part of it

And I saw my people
Crying out with no one to listen
So I used my voice
To scream their message loud

They'll call you a traitor
They say it's disrespect
But to be more mad of an anthem
than lives that are lost.
Lives these soldiers fight for
Lives these soldiers die for

You are my hero Kaep
You saved me.
The light in a dark world
Where hope evades the privilege
of a mulatto kid, with white parents

And hope burns in darkness
It shines it's light strong
10 years from now people
who so hated this movement
Will understand
This was the time
You led the rebellion
Against injustice for all.

"What are you?" he asks. "I mean what are you mixed with?"

He does not mean for the question to be rude. He has never seen someone quite like me, and the question has been bouncing around in his head for at least 2 minutes. So he blurts it out.

"Jamaican, Chinese, and White," I tell the stranger. I smile politely and attempt to mask my discomfort.

He only looks more intrigued. He thinks I am odd, oddly beautiful. Like a rare bird he has found. Not a bird one would ever keep. Just something to look at in awe.

"What are you?" the test paper asks, though in a more formal way. "Please bubble your ethnicity." I hesitate. I think about bubbling 3 different races, but I just end up filling in the bubble that says "other".

"What are you?" I ask my mirror. "Are you a freak? Why don't you look like everyone else? Why do they stare at you?"

"You are not pretty," i tell my reflection. "You are just different. The kind of different that no one likes. The kind of different that scares and intimidates people."

My reflection pauses for a moment. She smiles with kind eyes, forgiving my insult.

"You are everything," she tells me. "You are the sun, the moon and everything in between. You are a scorching hot fire, yet you are cold spring water. You are good and bad. You are you and I am, too. But most of all, you are human. Just like anyone else.

i'm biracial
no i'm not an oreo
no i ain't your zebra
i ain't the best of both your worlds
i ain't mulatto either

i am white
and
i am black
living my life with a sense of inequality
my race always seems to follow me
no matter where i'm at

white people have jokes
black people have questions
my hair appeals to some of you
while the rest of you have suggestions

who said i needed you to tell me who to be?
who said i needed to explain who i really am underneath?

striving to be normal and thriving to be equal
i just so happen to be a white girl
that knows what it's like to be black
and that bothers a lot of people

my race may not define me but it is apart of who i am
so yes i get offended when you refuse to understand

that i am what i am
black and white
white and black
light brown complexion
***** curls front to back

a strong black woman resides inside and it's she you see
a white woman is there but will never be
but i never deny my lines culturally

because they are me

Ah!  Another hero
Washed with bleach
Like the Son,
Who is only holy
When rinsed of his
Melanin.  

I wear a white coat
That browns in sunlight -
It appears the moon and I
Will be good friends.

How deep must I scrub
To rid my pores of
The southeast Asian sun;
To wash my hair of Pacific salt?
(Even my mother painted herself
With a European brush).  

How can I know myself
When denied the magma
In my blood?  

It's of no fault of mine
That I've been stripped
Down to resemble a
Colonial caricature -

I've been taught
The victories
And learned
Medals are smelt
In white gold,
But mostly
I've been told
That mixtures separate
And I am mostly
Creme with a dash of coffee.  

A shame!  
Us beige babies must be
Assigned colors
As if palettes were for paintings
Not people -

My family tree has
Cane fields and apple orchards,
So don't act like
You're surprised
When I mention
White isn't the only
Color of my skin.

babies

2. biracial hair

3. seeing my mother in love

4. the smell of nail salons

5. praise & worship

6. ny-is-thegoal

7. perfect execution