My black was my face and my face is my impression.
Nevertheless, my personality cannot stop them from thinking what they will.
I talk like a white girl.
Oreos with extra milk.
But the shock comes to them to figure I am a Bronx Girl.
I am not hood.
I am proper
But still gets followed around stores.
If this is what I experience,
What the hell was the Civil Rights for?
My equality is negative
And so is my expectations.
I can’t even sit comfortably
In a subway station.
All the looks
And scoughs
The “un-bias” coughs.
Sometimes I wanna scream “Riiiiiiicoooolaaaaa!”
Just to make it stop.
What the hell was the Civil Rights for?
My brother? My sister?
My cousin? My friend?
Don’t make no difference,
They all get shot in the end.
Is that what my future is?
Is that what awaits me?
Is this all I got?
Up to age 21?
22?
23?
I refuse to believe
That the world hasn’t changed
But I’m waiting for more hope
To come from my white friends.
I’ve finally got an answer.
The Civil Rights was for this.
“Civil Rights is for us
To prove we can do it.”
Straight A GPAs
Voting for politics
And breaking stereotypes.
We are the people who came from the Earth
We keep trees rooted
Grass green, flowers blooming.
We are the people who have a lot to prove.
My skin is the Civil Rights Movement
And I’m gonna put it to use.