50 Shades of Black
You know it's crazy when we, as African Americans, say things like, "I wish I was lighter" or "I wish my hair could be like that instead of this" but we still try to tell our children that they are perfect just the way they are. We tell them "Let no one degrade you or try to enslave you in a society where we aren't light enough or we're too curvy." Yet we talk about other types of our skin like we aren't the same.
Day in and day out we struggle with the dirty looks from other races because of certain features on our faces and the color that's been gracefully painted on our skin. And on top of that we fight with racism among ourselves - that we are no longer one race but five. You know we got the light skins, and red bones, and dark skins, and mix chicks, and high yellows. We've been blinded by the place we call home that we can't even see that we are really just one - black.
This poem should be called 50 Shades of Blue because it's sad to see black on black crime, to see our children, especially our men refuse to look upon an ebony-faced woman and call her beautiful. To see a young girl be called "coal" bacause she's just a little bit darker than you, for her to end up saying she'd rather wed lighter or maybe even whiter, because that's just her preference when deep down she doesn't want her daughter to experience the pain of being just a little bit darker.
But little does she know that coal has strong value. That even after it's been beaten and pressurized that it still comes out more valuable and stronger than before, that it turns into a symbol of love and turns a poor man into a rich man. But even then we would still use and abuse her, so what's the point?
The point is, that though we are fighting a never ending war, the fights should not be within. Though it's inevitable to be looked at differently, that we should look at each other as the same. And yeah, it's true, segregation is gone and our little black boys and little black girls and our little white boys and little white girls can look at each other and call each other friends, but let that little black boy dare to date let alone marry that little white girl, what will we say then? White or black, we still give them ugly looks, talk behind their back, ask ignorant and foolish questions, only because we refuse to except the fact that something so differnt could be together.
Racism is all around, the only sad part about it is that it's not only on the outside but on the inside as well. Ask yourself this question, do I treat others like me as one or just like this poem, as 50 shades of black?