Rachel

On July 11^th 2005, my father died

Mortified, I notarize through rhyming lines

I [GLUG] feel the noose tighten on more than my father

Feel the vice tighten its grip on my father

No, no, no not my Father!

For on July 11^th 2005, more than my father died!

On July 11^th 2005, my innocence died

On July 11^th 2005, my youth died

On July 11^th 2005, my self-love died

On July 11^th 2005, a part of me died

Flash-forward 7 years to a new me

Walking and talking with a dark-skinned Haitian beauty

I, PAUSE…she said something that got me thinking

Something that got my mental mapping and my neurons linking

Flashback 5 years to the old me

Somehow, by the powers of the Ugandan sun and/or puberty, I was dark-skinned!

Sure, it had happened gradually,

But, I had never expected it to this extent  

Never had I expected to feel so pinned

To the bottom of the barrel of racial inferiority

“I used to be light-skinned! See! Me!”

I proudly proclaimed, hoisting up photos from my youth

When I was young and uncouth

Hurling insults left, right and center at those with a darker shade

“You’re so black, you bleed ink!”
I said with a smile on my face

Now I was the one, who merely had to blink to indicate

Turn right [right eye blinks]

Light is right

Team Lightskin…no more

Flash-forward, years four

Burning with righteous indignation at the societal advantages that my light-skinned friends had over me, I was-

Jealous

Simply jealous

I used to be light-skinned, I knew what is was like

Light is might!

I- “You perceived”

What-“You perceived”

Rachel cut through my reverie

As she spoke, her grounded tones flashed me forward to the present breeze

“You perceived” Rachel said, and as our conversation continued and we walked and talked

I gawked

I don’t remember exactly what was said

But I know I am indebted

For I had heard it all before:
“The Blacker the Berry the sweeter the juice! Black is beautiful! #TeamDarkskin!”

But none of these did a thing for me  

For none of them addressed the bonds of mental slavery

That shackled me

None addressed my perceived inferiority

I don’t remember exactly what Rachel said to me

But I know that, on July 11^th 2005, a part of me died

And on that third day, Rachel resurrected a part of me

Privilege

The bottle spins as the reams of thoughts flutter by my consciousness

As my disjointed synapses fire off things I would not mind saying with confidence

The bottle stops.

On me.

Breath in…

PAUSE

Settle on one idea, I see

‘Never have I ever wished for the unearned advantages distributed based on the values of the dominant matriarchal society that we live in’

All the men take a shot

All the women sit in awkward defensive silence

Sometimes silence is violent

Sometimes silence speaks of untold and underrepresented voices

Sometimes silence speaks of long internally torn oppressed histories, also known as ‘background noises’

Sometimes silence tells a story

Sometimes silence tells this story from alternate eyes

Do you realize?
Sometimes silence is violent

Like that one night out

Or EVERY single night out

Going out for some drinks, dancing and good times with the guys

As we get on the dancefloor, we form a little circle, and the dance the night away to our hears content

Enter woman.

She tries dancing up on me, to which I reply

By turning around and politely explaining ‘I’m sorry but I don’t want to dance with you’

‘Wow’ she replies, ‘What do you think you’re too good for me or something?’

‘No’-

‘Then what?? You got a girlfriend or something?’

‘No’-

‘Then what?? Are you gay or something?’

‘No’-

‘Then’- WHAT, WHAT, WHAT, WHAT answer would ever satisfy one who does not care about what I want

This is NOT my story to tell..

Truth is, never have I ever wished for the unearned advantages based on the values of the dominant patriarchal society that we live in

Truth is, all the women take a shot

Truth is, all the men sit in awkward defensive silence

Truth is, silence is violent

Truth is, no matter how many female friends, girlfriends, mother’s, sisters, cousins etc. I have, I will never ever, fully relate to the female experience

Truth is, I cannot speak for a life I have not lived

Truth is, however angry and frustrated this makes me, this does not compare to the experiences of those that have to live it every single day

Truth is, I think I finally know what it feels like to be white