Why I Fight

When I was 4 or 5, I met racism for the first time

It came from my white neighbor in a place where there was little brown light

Her mom let her say that because I was black, she didn’t want to play with me

And that’s when insecurities came onto thee

When I was 6, I met one of my first black friends

The other black kids I knew went to a different school in town on the other end

Meeting her impacted my life but it didn’t change a lot of things

Because I was still the only black girl on dance, basketball, karate, and soccer teams

In school, my name was a subject of laughter

Teachers pronouncing it wrong, even when I corrected them after

I don’t see it on souvenirs and I worry if I’ll get a job with this weird name?

I wonder if I went by my middle name, if I would have had easier school days

And my hair is something I love but it took me a long time to get there

Get your hands off my braids, don’t touch my weave, and when you see me with braids out, just know I did not cut my hair

And when I keep it straight it doesn’t mean I wanna be white

It simply just means that dealing with it takes up something I don’t have, time.

Finally, there’s my mental health which has been a rollercoaster ride

But no, that’s a white people thing, right?

Mental health is already a struggle and racism on top of it doesn’t help

But writing and activism makes my spirit feel well

to the people that say “you speak well for a black girl” or “you act white”

You might think you’re being funny or nice but the things you say ain’t right

My skin color is only melanin, paint to decorate a soul

The real me is someone you have to listen to, talk to, and get to know

To the people that say that “I’m too activist, you’re not even black enough for these experiences”

I hope you can now see that is something I’ll have to disagree with

And to that young version of me who hated herself for a long time

I see you girl, and this is the reason why I fight!