Biracial Soul | Teen Ink

Biracial Soul

July 8, 2010
By BecomingPoetry BRONZE, Tampa, Florida
BecomingPoetry BRONZE, Tampa, Florida
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Is she Black, Cuban, Mexican, White, Arabian, Asian, Indian, Haitian, Japanese? My genetic features confuses them, plays tricks on their minds, challenges their mental ability to identify my race. Some think the swirl of different blood flowing through my veins is cute, amazing, unique, but to most I am identified as a mutt, a disgrace, a disgusting creature before their eyes. Some avoid me because the low down images they have of whatever they think I am. I’ve been in pointless fights because they say Spanish girls think their better than everyone. Other kids told not to play with me because they say, “She got white in her somewhere, spoiled and get away with everything”. Students try to play and use me to do their work because somehow my squinty eyes tell them that I’m a genius. I'v been accused of stealing or being violent and out of control because my brown skin tone is all they see. Teased saying, “a doctor is no job for a Mexican, but they are hiring at that new construction site!”
I try to ignore, to be myself, but all of their many ideas of who I am tells me that I’m a wana be, trying just to fit in. I’m trying to be white if I speak properly, then a ghetto black Barbie if I don’t pronounce my words correctly, a Latino if I get down with my Spanish culture and speak a little Spanish every now and then, Mexican or Haitian if I like the sport soccer, or Asian if I admire the unique slit on the side of my caramel face. I can never satisfy any one. A disgrace to half of my family that hides me when visitors come, and the other half trying to transform me to the race category that best fit me, in their eyes. But what am I really? I am a biracial American. A Black and Mexican woman and a white and Asian man is what made me. I’m not afraid to speak the Spanish taught to me or do the latest hip hop dance at a party. I don’t mind if ignorant people talk about my proper English. I’m not ashamed of my unique hair that’s combs through smoothly in the front but tight naps snap the comb in half in the back. The people who actually think I can’t see because of the slits in my eyes are kind of funny! So you may have a lost of words for me so let me break it down in letters, B E A U T Y, which spells beauty. Because not only am I a mixture of half the world but I’m taking the first step in loving me for me and bringing my biracial soul to reality.


The author's comments:
For those who don't know me I'm not really biracial. When I see situations in people lives that concerns me, I imagine myself in their shoes and begin to write.I would like people to learn from this poem to love all of who you are and not to judge people based on they look.

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