Yesterday
I cried
I spoke to some people about what it's like to be black
Most of them weren't the same colour as me
They didn't see me
I don't know what they saw
But they didn't see me
I wanted to help them
See that my colour is an essential part of who I am
And what makes me, me
If they don't see colour
Then, they don't see me
Being black is core to who I am
And what I am
Like being a woman
Like being a mother
Like being a wife
Like being a sister
They're all part of my identity
I don't wear labels with 'wife' or 'mother' around my neck
But I wear my colour
I walk around in my skin
It's part of me
It's who I am
Yesterday
I cried
I cried for every racist name I'd ever been called
I cried for my dad being a 'black bastard'
I cried for my aunt being 'Kunte Kinte'
I cried for my brother being a 'nigger'
I cried for my parents sharing a house
With what seemed like a million other people
And warming themselves on an old paraffin heater
(They were the lucky ones)
I cried for my uncle being told, 'No vacancies here'
I cried for every black boy and black girl in school
Left unchallenged and not confronted for poor behaviour
I cried for every black child who begins with such promise
And ends up a 'failure' according to the system
I cried for every black child who is demeaned, put down and humiliated
For every black child who is ignored
I cried for every ancestor who was
Kidnapped
Raped
Enslaved
Tortured
Beaten
Murdered
Cheated
I cried for my son not wanting to be black anymore
Because black people don't get good jobs and
Because he was tired of being called 'poo face'
I cried for my children
I really cried for my children
I cried for my daughter calling herself brown
And my son telling her she's black
I cried for so little changing over so much time
I cried for every little box that ever needed to be ticked
So I can be an ethnic group
And be assured that services are fair and free from discrimination
I cried for any person that can't or won't see colour
I cried
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