They do not know me
Though they pretend to
Easier that way
They can look through me
At least whichever part offends them
At that particular moment
I am indefinable to them
Invisibility keeps the peace
Though it leaves me tattered
In two pieces
Identity is mine to chose
Single pea in a pod for two
Identity is mine to chose
As long as my politically correctness
Strokes their prejudices
And lives up to their stereotype
Someone please define black for me
Can anyone define white for me
Like paint, can I declare myself grey
Can I pick whatever space is comfortable for me
Can I?
Can u breathe red angel dust
And cough out blue speckles
The 7 colours of a rainbow
Are rarely seen
The world beneath black & white
Is rarely what it seems
I speak the realest truths
When bolstered by drink
And hide my true realness
When sober
Catch 22
February 26, 2006
They
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1 comment:
The issue of identity is something that goes to the core of my journey through this life. Being half-black/half-white in a world that continues to define us according to black or white makes it difficult, at times, to find one's own space. We are always expected to pick a side & I have gotten to a space where the only side for me is mine... on the fence. Becomes even more complicated living in South Africa where 'coloured' occupies that space. Although it is different from mine, I am constantly having to explain why.
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