My Blackness

sometimes my blackness feels like a burden, pushing me deep into the dark dirt

and as i suffocate i realize that around me is the rich dark brown I too am made of

and other times my blackness is the wind beneath my feet

soaring high

riding on the accomplishments of my ancestors and the strength of my people

and yet other times my blackness means nothing to me

it is a skin color, as simple as whiteness

until I remember it is not

My blackness a part of me, i can never erase it

nor would i want to

but sometimes i want to simplify it

i am tired of avoiding stereotypes with fear of judgment

i am tired of being a representation of a diverse group of people

i am tired of being afraid, of being angry, of being too much and too little

of being too black or not black enough

there’s a one size fits all for black kids and it ain’t pretty

because the skin i was born into is an affront to societal norms

the black i was born in is strong, passionate, and proud

the black i was born in is determined and unrelenting

but I have become comfortable with the darkness of my complexion,

the wideness of my nose, the thickness of my lips

the kinks of my hair

i have become proud of my blackness

 

i have made it part of my identity