Unapologetically Melanated

This melanin comes with a dash of honey and hint of cinnamon.

It can be sweet, but there is still a hint of spice.

This spice was not always an ingredient of my melanin;

See, this melanin was pure,

But life has a way of diluting the purest of recipes.

My melanin does not crack, but at times it has grown weary.

Weary of being too diluted, it did not meet the standards

Of those who embodied the mindsets of their oppressors.

See, this melanin still gives me depth,

But it is often seen as not deep enough.

Not only do I have to defend my melanin to those who lack,

But I have caught myself explaining why my melanin is enough.

It is a double edged sword, and I am balancing the middle,

Neither side wants to take me, so I stand solid on my side.

My hair does not have enough kink, but it is also not straight.

I am not a lesbian, but I am also not straight.

My melanin is not as deep as the midnight sky,

But it also does not pale in comparison to any other.

I do not give my power away to a religious entity,

But I believe there is more than meets the eye,

Because I am more than meets the eye.

So, when I say there is a dash of cinnamon,

This spice has continuously saved my life.

My melanin has been diluted;

The world has attempted to take my melanin and change the recipe.

I was gifted this melanin in its purest form,

But it was said to be too bland, so perhaps honey could fix that.

The honey made me sweet but naive;

Sweet enough to encounter love,

Naive enough to believe this love was genuine.

Manipulation boxed as concern,

Resentment covered in awkward laughter,

Betrayal lost in silence,

Because being pure is not possible in such a fabricated world.

So, I let my melanin be molded through these experiences,

And the recipe continued to change.

Molded through manipulation,

Molded through resentment,

Molded through betrayal,

Molded through depression in the midst of silence,

Molded because those who cared could not hear me in this silence.

Molded to wake in this silence,

Go to sleep in this silence,

So, I began to walk away in silence,

From those who did not notice the absence of the voice I once had.

However, one cannot unapologetically reclaim their melanin without fault;

After many silent departures and many pointed fingers,

I needed a zest.

I needed something to help me rise as yeast does for bread;

Not the strings that everyone chose to place upon me to control my every function,

But something that helped me reclaim my melanin without being too sweet.

Ah, cinnamon!

The hint of spice that changed my life,

The unapologetic version of my recipe,

Too spicy for some, but to that I’d say—

It’s your taste buds ‘cause I’m perfect!

Perfect for my path,

Perfect for my journey,

My confidence is loud, and I am even louder—unapologetically.

Because I was silent for long enough,

I was molded long enough,

My recipe has been changed, but I like it.

Not so pure, but made to taste.

No measurements needed,

Not too subtle on the taste buds but good for the soul.

My melanin is a gift,

And though my recipe has and will continue to change,

My version of melanin is still melanin all the same.

I will not apologize or explain this fact ever again,

And I can thank my new recipe for that!