I Am African

I have always worn an American disguise
It is crazy how people always seem to tell me I look like an African
And the times I really had the guts to tell them, "I am one"
They had trouble believing me
When you think of Africans you think of rebels
You see ignorance
A common disease that a lot of people refuse to get cured from
So when I tell you that we are not all the same
But you still just so happen to label me as a rebel
I will respond back with, "I am one!"
Because I am fighting against stereotypes
That do not know when to stop
Being an African has always been a joke
And I remember
All the times I was too weak to stand up and embrace it
So I found myself being distant from my heritage
Like a freeman's wrist and a bracelet, it reminds us too much of pain
It is like I was Miley Cyrus living in the best of both worlds
But because of my insecurities I lacked interest in my African side
So kente cloths and dashikis were never a part of my attire
I never liked writing nor telling my middle name but by the way
It is Blessing
And other than my family I never told anyone what I ate at home
Even if they asked, but if you ask me now I would tell you
African foods are the best things in the world
And I wish I knew how to make them

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