L'oreal now has a makeup
That takes the guess work out of finding your perfect shade of foundation.
Well L’oreal…
It fucking took you long enough didn't it?
Where the hell was this when I was in elementary school?
Or hell
I'd settle Jr. High.
All those mornings
I had to look in the mirror and see a skin tone
That didn't quite match my foundation of friends.
This would have come in handy.
Finally.
A product that lets me feel comfortable in my own skin.
It's been 30 years since my sojourn began.
I know,
I didn't wear make up back then.
But if I'd been exposed to this miracle product beforehand,
Imagine.
All the friendships I could have saved.
My childhood
Consisted of a color palette
Composed mostly of a lighter pigment than my own.
And if our Life's Painting
Only consists of the colors of people we put in it,
My painting
Looked a lot like a newspaper lacking content.
And as the only sentence on the page,
It wasn't hard to stand out.
So I tried to blend in.
Tried not to attract attention
For fear of being mentioned.
I changed.
The way that I dressed to seem less confrontational.
Changed the way I spoke to seem more agreeable.
Changed the way I breathed
So as not to be too audible.
But I couldn't change my flesh.
No matter how bad I wanted to.
And I began to notice.
Notice
That I was always
The "black friend" my friend's parents were referring to.
Notice
That it wasn't necessarily me
Girls didn't find attractive,
But the skin I was dressed in.
Notice
That being "mixed"
And being black
Weighs just as heavily on the suburban scale of "normality."
And I'll admit.
It took me a long time to learn what they meant
When they asked me "what are you?"
As if
My overall classification of "human being”
Wasn't quite registering on their "one of us" radar.
I was lucky.
Because I had friends who didn't seem to notice me struggling to be like them.
But the environment I was in
Never let me forget that I was the exception,
Not the rule.
What if,
As children,
We were forced to grow up in a school as colorful as our crayon boxes?
Imagine,
How beautiful the stories we painted together would be.
If we began to see unique
And beauty
As synonyms.
Not commodities we can exploit to sell stories.
If the sentences "she's pretty for an Indian girl.”
Or.
"He's smart for a Mexican.”
Or.
"He's tall for an Asian guy.”
Could exist without a qualifier attached to them.
“She's pretty",
“He's smart,”
“He’s just fucking tall,”
Period.
Color
Only matters
To people who are afraid
That one day theirs might not.
And I've been afraid most of my life
Of offending those people with my existence.
But I'm developing a resistance.
A new set of eyes
That sees beauty in the "abnormalities."
I'm writing stories
That tell of colors the first cameras
Could quite capture.
Full of characters so diverse in complexion,
You'd have a hard time finding similarities in anything
But our laughter.
So I'm sorry L’oreal.
You're a little too late.
See, I no longer need a cream in a bottle to help me blend in.
I'm a little too busy,
Trying to stand out.
About the Creator
S.C. Says
S.C. Says is an Austin based slam poet who has been performing slam poetry since 2013. He's toured and featured at venues and universities across the country, and his poetry has been viewed over 700,000 times.
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