In my country, my color
dictates the response to be
negative or positive regardless of
what black people have done
for this nation because my identity,
my condition is not put in history lessons
so others will forget our struggles
from the former days
where cotton picking, brick building
brought oppression to black faces,
then I bleed on my bookshelf.
Society divides colors into
categories and creates a past
as if pain becomes progress,
yet my vivacious spirit rejects
all the stereotypes since this scope
makes some scratch their heads.
Still, I am a treasure worth
respecting as I present myself
as a showcase to the world that
my mentality deserves to be in books
and research because
Justice justifies my mouth.
America is my country and
my mind meditates on children
of darker shades with labels
placed on them by how they play,
while removing the possibility
they may be distinct for mental reasons,
yet after years of suicides
and silent sufferings, more medical
professionals are searching for core causes.
I wish communities with deeper tones
could come together instead of being
torn apart through status, stamina,
and stage presence.
Will the madness ever end for
black women to be unique and not unusual?
May black families learn to
build, not break
lift, not light up guns,
and then the narrative can change
where the colorful female flies
beyond the universe’s beauty standards.
My ambiance is extraordinary,
lively, and passionate.
I position this crown by captivating
eyes consuming my high-class royal stature.
Dismiss the negative.
I am the struggle, the strength, and the stride.
Witness my neurodivergent black life.
Bathe in my playfulness.
I have hidden my heart,
shielded my soul.
Now, I stand and speak,
raising my hands in hope.
My flavor travels throughout
my mahogany female skin.
I do exist. We do exist.
I am an Autistic, ADHD black woman.
We belong in America.
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