The One of Many

"The One of Many"- By Xandrea Rhodes

I’m the one that is described in many different shades. We have our African queens, our Nubian princesses, our caramel desires or maybe a heresy kiss. I am the one that is oppressed for simply being her. The one that destroys others of my same reflection. Specifying that one shade in the same rainbow is better. Saying that being too black is too ugly and being too light is too fake. Faking my way through life, saying I’m proud of who I am but only if I’m the right shade.

I am the one that reminds everyone that I’m a bad b*, a real b*. But can’t even be real about her own situation at hand. The fact that were at war with the woman in the mirror, but still worried about the war that happened years ago. Jailed in our minds that we’ll never see passed the streets we grew up in. Caught in our lies that we were just set up for failure and have no reason to try. Caught in a world that only sees the anger and not the struggle behind it.

I am the one that being to black won’t get you a job and being too white won’t get you support from the ones that are supposed to be behind you. I am the one where being kind is weak and being strong is abused. I am the one where being successful means you forgot where you came from and not celebrated for the many doors you had to go through. I am the one where being sexy, not even beautiful is power but being educated is a waste of time. Auctioning our bodies off to him and him, praying that one day someone, anyone might take a bid. Getting on our knees, asking god to send you the right man but still opening our legs for the devil. Wondering why me?

And I know that not everyone is like this, but the ones that do, force the others to have to fight to be called a women, fight to be loved and fight to be respected when it should already be given to us. Popping bullets in our brothers backs, fighting our sisters. We are the only race that discriminates its own. Always reminding our children of how black they are compared to the world . Instead of reminding them of how influential they can be to this world. Planting seeds of hate instead of seeds of hope. Telling our children that we won’t make it in the white world and to stick to our own. Instead of telling them to go out and prove them wrong. Keeping our minds locked in oppression, its their fault I cant get a job. Its their fault I can’t be successful. But they are really you but in a different image.

Me Slowly breaking down the wall, I’m not in a gang, my favorite color just happens to be blue, just because I’m loud doesn’t mean I’m ghetto, yes I’m here for an education and no I don’t play sports, yes I like to dance, no I can not teach you how to twerk, is it cause I’m black? No I did not grow up in the streets, I had a nice house, with a good family and I hated high school just like you. Yes I’m from a single mother home but so is half the world. And lastly, NO I DO NOT TALK WHITE. I Talk like a regular human being.

While I’m digging my way out of this wall, someone’s building another one right behind me. Digging to find hope, digging to find my freedom. I just want to be X. But to us I'll always be the white girl, and to them, I'll always be the black girl. When I just want to be me.