**This is about a 2 year old poem that I had found a few days ago upstairs in my attic in between one of my old journals. I tweaked it a bit & wanted to put it up after I read "Invisible Man".. I wrote this poem because I know that alot of people encounter racism at least once in their life. My personal experience with this happened when I was in a what we call "habibi" store and the man behind the counter was arguing with his wife in their own language about my ethnicity. For those who have seen me in person, you all know I look mixed, I am Dominican, Panamanian & Chinese. So after their arguing, his wife asked me if I was African. I told her that I was Latina, and her husband looked at me in disgust and said in english, "I told you, she is to light to be African". I was 16 when that happened.**
Is my skin color not light enough, or is it not dark enough for you? Is my hair not straight enough or is it not kinky enough for you? I DEMAND an answer as you have- stuck me in a world where everywhere I turn, there's racial profiling.
You have nerve to stand there and tell me that I am not a purebred. I stand between white and black, black and white, but why? When you are all the same- as me. Whether you want to accept it or not we are all black and for the reason that you are lighter than me- it is only because of your European location, in which you didn't have the sun burn upon your back as if you were to have lived in the Motherland.
AND YOU! You are darker than me, yet call me a half breed, but because of our descendants I am you, and you are me. Stop the racial profiling.
You tear my soul, rip it in two, you look down upon me.
Are my eyes not light enough, or is it that they are not dark enough for you? Are my lips too small, my nose too straight, or are my lips too full and my nose not straight enough for you? We feel the same emotions, happiness and pain, we contract the same diseases, cancer and aids. We drink the same water and we eat the same things... I am you, and you are me. Stop the racial profiling.
-Butta Love, the provocative verabalist
