when i was thirteen
i used to wear this
cheesy
mass manufactured
fake
silver
ring
around my thumb that said
just let me be me.
because i was angry
but quiet
and wanted people to entice me
into having to explain
what it was that i meant
that i wanted to be allowed to be
but,
i never really explained myself
because
by wearing my brown skin as identity
rather than clothes that i was burdened in
it would have been impossible to be angry,
and to continue to be quiet.
and when i was thirteen, i wasn't ready to give up my silence
so it restled as an unplanted seed within me
and
for
seven
more
years
i was someone else
in the world
i dated boys of color
and caught the freak white boy's occasional eye
those who thought me exotic and wanted to give me a try
like i was a carnival ride
or some such uncharted territory
to explore
with adreniline
with erect penis
to forge and colonize
as if i were some distant isle
open
for those to come
and water with their drugs
and slander
whilst seeping into my palms
and ground shrubs
boys who
when sweating under me
would scream
baby.
speak to me in spanish.
and i would laugh.
on the inside anyway
because i was
too
sad
to
cry
i acted well.
sought solace in brown cultures that were not my own.
represented for the people of color lacking at my school.
schooled people on hip hop
and sometimes even blues
spoke spanish well
since on the streets that's what everyone assumed i knew
offered patience
when people asked me where i was from
or complimented me on how well i spoke english
even tho it was and still is my first language.
but
it
eventually
wore
on
me.