the shade

“and you light skin,”

he said with a grin

as i walked away holding my clipboard of voter registrations.

my hesitation

was saying something

to the man at the bus station.

i don’t remember if he said

he was already registered or not. i just read

the expression on his face.

as if being a certain color makes me better for my race.

as i sit on an open field in the sun

and feel the rays, i want to cover up, or run

into the shade where it can’t find me.

because of global warming

and not evening out my skin tone.

i put those days behind me.

but i can’t help but notice my arms

are darker than my hands are lighter

than my thighs are darker than my face.

is this harmful

behavior?

i know it sounds crazier

to look and pick and stare

at different colors and compare

and say, “oh, no, it’s about the cancer,”

but if my skin tone were even would i care?

all this to say, when i look at the sum of my parts,

i think that man was wrong. i almost started

to say, i’m not light skinned; i’m brown.

but i just kept walking, didn’t turn around.

i guess it’s about perspective

and our thinking is defective.

what matters is not our shade

but whether we feel the need to run into it,

away from the glare.

and stare

into the faces of those who should be aware

of how they treat us

based on color.

take the time to meet us.

putting us into groups of 2 or 3 defeats the

purpose.

cover up for creepy men?

maybe.

cover up to even the skin?

never again.