Being Biracial


Being biracial
Regardless of the location
Or destination
Appropriation is my probation
Forever being stuck in the in-between
One side mad cause my blood ain’t “clean”
The other side don’t want me cause my skin is fair
Like its my fault they can’t see the melanin that’s there
I was born into this world a mistake
A potion not completely mixed
1 part too much,
1 part not enough
My hair the texture of my ancestors
A grandmothers hands who were gentle
Even when the shackles that held her back weren’t
The oils and creams that mixed to make to help make our magic That sprouts from our roots grow,
Are foreign land to me
My kinks are un-combable
My hair untamable
I am a mix between the slave and the master
My black side looks at me in shame and horror
As if I will draw a whip from my belt
My white side clutches their purse of morals and despair
As I show up to the family functions
Praying I don’t steal it
Being biracial
Means I can’t be too black or too white
It means the group of people I
Hang with
Sit with
Or even talk to
Define whether I’m preppy or ghetto
As if a person can define what race I am
As if the shame and hurt I receive from my creators ain’t enough Refusing to appreciate me for my concoction of a body
As if they didn’t lay down and make the decision
To mix their cultures into one
Causing a chaos of a lifestyle to come
My mother who doesn’t understand that my hair doesn’t flow Like hers
My body has curves
That her’s cannot bend to
That buried in these roots are years of lost culture My father
Doesn’t understand
That my skin will never
Match his or my siblings
No matter what I do
Being biracial
I don’t tan
I don’t burn
I see different sides of the world
Being biracial
All I want
All I pray
Is that one day
I can be accepted for
Me

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