When we hear the word race
Are our minds polluted by a vision of a black face?
My textbook covers the “issues”
But never addresses the slave mentality still left in the dark tissues
We are all envious of what we can’t have
But I can’t help but feel sad
When my own people get mad
That I define myself as a black female
Let Egypt hail
The black Cleopatra queen
Yet when I saw Elizabeth Taylor play her on TV,
I couldn’t help but wonder if history could mislead.
Light skin versus dark skin seems to be the reason our race will not unite
Why we fight
Why we misbehave
Why our school cancelled that trip to go see 12 Years A Slave
Why others think we are savages to one another due to how many lives we lost in the heat of the night.
Should we be respected when we are endangering our own race?
Should we mourn an innocent life when that life will simply become another forgotten court case?
And the efforts to protest will only be met with legislation that never takes place
All these stereotypes hover
Either ghetto or hiding under a white skin cover
Women as baby mammas wearing 32-inch weaves
Men only care about girls, money, selling drugs, and smoking trees
But I refuse to be a stereotype
I refuse to be a statistic
I refuse to fall victim to a system that preprogrammed me to live like this
I deserve the recognition I receive not because of the color stained under my sleeve
But for the intelligence I constantly feed
I can’t cover up my skin
I won’t change who I am to make you comfortable within
And for all those who dare to think I’m just another black woman
I am a phenomenal woman, that’s me
Who deserves to live a life fit for a queen.