Blacktually

Dear You,

You say I am not a token…

But, inside I feel like the good one. The only one you place in front of the crowds, plaster on billboards, and ask to accept all the awards. Have I become your trophy?

You call me brave, articulate, strong, and different. I never openly question what you mean. But, I feel deeply that I know.

Where are you from?

You’re not from here are you?

Are these questions designed to remind me there is no opportunity to hide? Questions that aren’t looking for truths, and instead searching for explanation and confirmation that I don’t belong here?

As compliments feel condescending and the line between helpful and hindering is blurred, I’m the one that you welcomed in. I’m told I should be thankful and appreciative. As the separate worlds we’re from begin to collide instead of merge, I remember I’m the one who accepted this dance. But, should I be submissive and follow?

Who do you want me to be? Would I be here if I told you my whole story? Do you like when I crop around my life to attempt a perfect picture of worthiness? Or can I be whole?

From my clothes, to my hair. From my mannerisms, to my tone. From my needs, to my wants. From my heart, to my soul.

Would you accept me for who I blackactually am?

Or would that be too different…

Sincerely,

Me…