I’m not a label, I’m just me

From birth we’re taught about those who’re “different”,

Skin, sexuality, religion.

We learn about them, just to learn to despise them,

The label “human” we deny them.

We’d sidestep, scowl and treat them like dirt,

Not satisfied until they’re hurt.

In society, we’re labels,

Our melanated skin forms our identification.

We bleed, and our hearts beat the same

But “he’s black, she’s white” is our only claim

I’m not a label, I’m just me.

I’m my past, present and future, I’m a collection of stories.

I can’t be boxed in like a supermarket full of groceries

I am the red in anger, green in envy

I am the grey in stormy seas

So don’t just look at my brown skin,

I beg you, look within.

I’m a kaleidoscope of colours

That you can’t yet see

I’m not a label, I’m just me.