I Am.. Proud

Long, brown hair,

Twisted with tangled, perfect curls.

Skin so bright, not white like mom, yet

Lacks the melanin covered in dad's legs and arms.

"You know she ain't black,

Her a** ain't even fat!"

"You know she ain't white, look at her hair

Them curls are way too tight!"

Well, who is she? What is she?

She is, "white people think you are 

tainted. And black people don't think you are 

black enough."

She is, "Well which side do you like better?"

She is, "You don't feel our oppression or pain. 

Hell, one side of your ancestors owned slaves."

BUT ONE SIDE OF MY- her...

Ancestors never owned slaves. 

She is, growing up on the southside of Atlanta 

where there aren't too many white people around

So she clung a hold to strictly having black 

friends, being called, "the white girl in town". 

She is, apple red when she's upset, sad or embarrased.

She is, blue and purple;

"Girl you know lightskins bruise easily".

She is, "Oh my gosh, can I touch your hair?!"

PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH MY- her..

hair. 

A beautiful bronze tan in the summer

A "Girl, you need a tan" in the winter.

She is mulatto, a constant battle of who she loves the most.

Who she respects the most. 

Which side does she choose in this racial back and forth war

in society. 

She is constantly attacked and picked for

the color of her skin..

or the lack thereof. 

Who is she? Me.

Not to be defined by everyone's elses views

on what I should or need to be.

I am the girl always making everyone laugh,

always with a smile. 

I am the product of two souls that came together, looked past

color and created life. 

I am a woman. 

Black and white. 

Proud.