While on my journey to self acceptance, I’ve learned more about myself than ever anticipated.
But, there are still parts of me I have yet to discover. One of which is the confusion that comes with being mixed. This is something I have longed to articulate, but for whatever reason, cannot find the right words.
The following is the first of many attempts.
The Concept of Me:
I’d be lying if I said I noticed. If I knew what it meant to be in this skin.
But all I knew was radiance. Was lovely. Was something they didn’t have. Something they couldn’t bare.
Curls rocked and swayed to the bumping of car beats, but I was still lost in the waves. In the white.
I remember being in love with February. The way its days seemed to bleed richness and culture.
I never had a culture
It was just us. And that was enough.
Until it wasn’t.
I am an identity crisis.
To be mixed
And to have only experienced it partially
Is to be confused
Is to be lost in the inbetween
And to never find your way out
I am the grey area
The line people tiptoe around to avoid stepping on eggshells
Because once you crack you can never go back
You will never know what it feels like
To be in this skin
No matter how many white flags you wave
It will never be enough
I will never be enough
Because that’s what it means to be mixed
To bleed melanin only to have it covered by white gauze
There is a war inside me
And nobody wants to play
Nobody wants to stay
Long enough to hear each other out
There is no compromise
No parts of me to get along
That’s just not how it works
You see a person can either be all or nothing
And for most of my life I’ve only ever known the ladder
But that changes today
I am neither here nor there
Because I will exist everywhere
In all realms
I will be
Whatever that means