What Are You?
When I was growing up,
Carolyn Hopkins
all I ever heard from
my people was, "What are you?"
You see, my hair was thick, black,
long--hanging all
the way down my back.
And I guess to some black folks
I just didn't look black.
So they would often ask,
"Are you part Indian,
or Spanish or White?"
My skin is tan,
a foreign color some say,
So it made it kind of hard to fit
in in a comfortable way.
My hair has always been
a mystery to many,
for even now that I wear
it short like Halle,
I still hear people say,
you've got that "good stuff.
Your hair sure is pretty."
Just look at the way
it waves on your neck,
so you can't be black."
And I say, "It's because of the
history of our people;
my Mama is a mixed breed,
her Mama was a mulatto and my
great-grandmama was white.
So my hair reflects the history
of our unique plight.
But I feel black,
even though my hair
doesn't exactly nap the way
you think it should.
I love my thick, curly, coarse hair.
I love the fact that
If I want it long,
then I can grow it long,
without the help of a weave.
And even if my hair wouldn't grow,
I don't think I would wear a weave
and shame my race because
God would have made it long
in the first place.
So, I'm going to be quite honest,
as far as my hair goes,
it' just the kind of hair
that happens to grow.
