You Must See

Hello it’s me, the p.o.c., the boy by definition you cannot see. Absolutely destitute. Devoid of color, devoid of light. The thriving son of midnight. Fortunately, I don’t look to Webster to define me. I walk with my brown skin on display each and every day. They say be color blind, but I’m begging you to see mine. See all the beauty, see all the ugly. Appreciate. You don’t have to love me. You don’t have to run up and hug me as I stroll past. Just accept that we’re both in the same class. We’re on the same plane and have been for awhile. Accept that this extra melanin I live within is nothing to reconcile. Nothing to “deal with”. Nothing to make “relatable”. The differences are what makes life worth living. The different hues that we’re imbued with are everything. We can’t cast them aside in an effort to homogenize. So look at me! I mean truly. Look into me! The former negro, turned colored, turned black, turned African American, now a p.o.c. The names grow and change but I remain. The man, by my own definition, you must see. In all his wretched, awful, wonderful, brilliant beauty.