If I were completely white…
I consider it certain that life would be far easier
I would be fully accepted by one race.
I would not be thought of as “other.”

My darker skinned cousins, and everyone else,
Would not stuff me in one box and seal the lid.
To the white people, I am too black to be white.
To my fellow people of color, I am to white to be black.

When I was younger, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t be brown…
Why I couldn’t just be myself, free of labels.
I am not my mother, with her fair skin.
And I am not my father, with his family’s culture.

My skin is tainted, and I must prove that my skin color does not define me.
I need to work harder than my white classmates
In order to be seen on the same level as them.
I must not cause trouble, for I would be guilty until proven innocent.

When I apply for college, I must state my ethnicity.
I could check “yes” for ethnic, to fulfill their minority quota.
How am I to know who values me for who I am?
I am a statistic, and I can never be anything more.

I wish I did not have to label myself for others.
I confuse them: am I hispanic, Native-American, Pacific Islander?
To be understood, I must be put in a box--
Forced into a box that I did not choose for myself.

The box has grown so tight, I cannot breathe.
I want to-- need to breathe, so I fight against their box.
I tear at the edges, clawing my way to freedom
To find that there are still more boxes to break through.