I was told
to write a poem about race.
But what should I know about race?
Except that I’m
Black.
And White.
And Cherokee,Jewish,andpeoplethinkI’mSpanish?

I suppose there is another side of me
that I don’t think you’ve ever met
Because I’ve never met her either
But I’m told she’s in there
Somewhere.

I’m told she
listens to misogynistic rap lyrics
shoots hoops in her free time
chills with the gang
  ya know homie??
will drop out of school in a few years
has taken advantage of the welfare system
has bought plasma screen TVs instead of food for her plethora of malnourished babies
only wears Nike and goes window shopping at the Salvation Army
  she be ghetto yo

I guess being black makes me a lot different than I am.

And while I don’t listen to much hiphop
and while I have no talent in any sport
And while my friends consist of a rainbow of colors and classes
  Ya know homie??
And while I plan to go to college
And while I have extra money to give to those who shop at the Salvation Army
And while I wear an abstinence ring
And while I am boycotting Nike for their immoral foreign workforce
  She be ghetto yo.
Somewhere.

And I do struggle with nappy hair constantly
and my skin is a shade darker than my white friends in summer
and my ancestors were slaves in North Carolina
and half of my family lives on property they used to be lynched on

But defining me by these stereotypes is like stuffing me into a pencil sharpener
And, come to think of it, I don’t know anyone who is that small.