White Enough

White Enough

My father came from far away

Across the ocean wide

To settle freely in this place

Of cross-cultural pride.

It took a while for him to learn

The language of the land,

But as the days turned into months

He fit right in as planned.

The father of my friend came too,

When she was very young,

They spat on him and tore his coat

Though he had learned the tongue.

Try as he might to make a friend,

To smile and tell a joke,

Most people still looked down on him

And snickered when he spoke.

My father worked with many folks

Who showed him great respect,

Sometimes they’d share a drink and talk

And time went by unchecked.

He joined some clubs and soon became

A much sought-after gent,

His European origin

An air of mystique lent.

The father of my friend worked too

But much to his dismay,

Each time he listed off his skills

He would be sent away.

His doctorate meant nothing here

So in his neighbourhood,

He cleaned the streets and emptied trash

But still he was no good.

The father of my friend had skin

Deep and rich in hue,

And educated as he was

His chances never grew.

My father’s skin was slightly tanned

His manner slightly gruff,

But in this world of privilege

His skin was white enough.