I Am More

I am more than my stereotype.

You’re part Italian?

You’re not Italian.

You’re black.

You’re part German?

You’re not German.

You’re black.

You go to an all white private school?

You’re so not black.

You don’t speak “ghetto”?

You’re so not black.

What am I?

I think I’m black.

But then, why am I told that I’m not black enough?

Why am I told that I don’t have the right stuff?

But then, when it comes to my heritage,

I’m just black enough

So that the other parts of me,

The parts you don’t see

Don’t exist to you… you feel like you’re calling my bluff.

As long as I don’t say that I’m not fully black,

I am as white as you want to call me.

The second I tell you that I’m something like you,

The mocha brown is all you see.

Do you 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?

I love being black.

To me, I’m 100 percent.

The problem comes when you act as though my color doesn’t fit your regimen.

I don’t need to be told that I must act a certain way,

I will not be defined by my melanin.

But I will let it push me to be the person that many will doubt I can be.

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

I am more than my stereotype.