I wrote this poem when I felt as if my voice was being silenced by those around me
I wrote this poem, aware of the stereotypes about black people
To you, for you
How many times do you look into the mirror?
Maybe once twice, a couple of times?
Well the times I gaze upon my re ection.
I see on image of beauty absent of correction.
The expression of my smile
The manifestation of beauty in my kinks and coils.
Yet there are times, you me and I gaze at a broken mirror
Shattered by the projections of societal in ections.
It’s like an infection that gets worse and worse
As we compare and contrast
Highlight and evaluate our inventions as to what is right and wrong
Our symptoms are fuzzy eyes, blurred vision and lack of precision
I bend and surrender to the equations of who I am meant to be.
You add, subtract, divide and multiply my identity.
My calculations of my personality are incorrect according to the average.
I fall victim as I deviate from the mean girls.
The lean girls.
The keen girls.
I fall victim as I am put in a black box of identity insurance.
WELL I AM TIRED.
Like mirrors identity is fragile and isn’t meant to be broken.
I am not the portrait of my peers.
I am not the replica of the regulars. I am not the carbon copy of the culture you see around you.
Nor am I the duplicate of the of the diversity around you.
I AM WHO I SAY I AM.
Ethnic in nature.
National by birth.
And yes, I praise the melanin that covers my bones.
I am more than the colour of my skin.
I am made up to the elements within.
I have image to perfect to gaze at through your broken mirror,
As all that’ll be left is a glimmer of gure whose light is now dimmer because she can’t see the winner she truly is.