I'm Not Black

To my black friends who have ever said:

I’m not black.

Or at least that’s what you tell me,

As if the color of my skin is not brown,

As if my hair is silky and pin straight.

I’m not black.

Like, what the heck are you talking about?

I’m not black.

Because I don’t talk like you do?

‘Cause I don’t listen to what you listen to?

‘Cause I don’t twerk or curse or say the n-word?

I’m not black

Because I ask questions about black culture?

‘Cause I believe in a variety of black experiences?

‘Cause my black experience is not exactly the same as yours?

I’m not black

Because I don’t like greens and don’t eat fried chicken?

‘Cause I’m not dark-skinned and have ancient white heritage?

I’m not black.

Yeah, my race card was never given a chance to stay with me,

‘Cause right off the bat you assumed something of me,

That I’m not black enough to be the black you expect me to be.

You forget that I’m still a black woman

Who goes through the same struggles you go through.

When a white guy looks,

He’s not looking at me.

When there are empty seats around me,

They stay empty.

When the rain falls,

My hair starts rising.

You forget that I’m still a black woman

Who had to grow up with lectures about

How white men won’t like me because I’m black,

How my hair is not beautiful or “neat” in its natural state,

How I must try harder because privilege does not reach me,

How I must watch out because men can control me,

How I may be pitied because white guilt is growing.

So I’m not black,

Though I’m the daughter of a black father,

Who has to be careful where he walks,

Has to maintain a smile because he’s big and tall,

Has to keep his hood down to prove he’s no threat at all,

Has seen oppression up close,

Has taken fists to the throat,

Has been left with scars and no voice.

So I’m not black,

Though I’m the daughter of a black mother,

Who was raised to believe

That she would not be taken seriously

If she did not look as white as she could,

If she did not tan like the others would,

If she did not press her hair to strip her natural curls

Or change her speech to sound professional.

I’m not black,

Or at least that’s what you tell me,

Even though my black experience

And my black skin

And my black parents

And my black history,

Tells me differently.

No, see,

If I’m not black,

Then neither are any of you.