A Spoken Word

Recently, I had a spoken word project where I had to create a poem on a chosen topic. I chose to write about my struggles being black growing up in a predominantly white community. When I mean struggles, I don't mean physical, financial, or really emotional, as I've been very blessed. My main point is that when I am in either white or black dominated spaces, I constantly feel outcast because of either my blackness or lack thereof. I realized this was something that impacted me on this voyage when I was originally not invited to a BSU hangout because they didn't think I was "black enough". So that's just a little background about my poem, and here it is titled, "The Double Lens".

My skin is brown, my background gold, 

A story complex, often untold. 

I learned the rules of comfort's place, 

A stranger to the hurried pace 

My ancestors knew, where the struggle was real, 

A life of privilege, how can I feel 

Connected to pain I have not endured, 

When all my young life has been secured?

I talk their talk, I know their ways, 

But I'm met with silence, a confused gaze. 

They whisper, "You're too soft, too refined," 

They call my manner "whitewashed," by design. 

They see the wealth, the easy stride, 

And on my blackness, they cannot confide.

Where do I fit, where do I stand?

I cross the line to the pale faces' space, 

To the high-class homes in the open place.

 I watch my manner, I watch my tone, 

But one wrong word, and I'm quickly thrown 

Into the category they truly expect, 

A stereotype, a label of neglect. 

They fear the roots, the whispers they hear, 

That I might carry the sound of the ghetto too near.

Where do I fit, where do I stand?

A bridge I walk, between two shores, 

Where neither truly opens their doors. 

I am a mix, a beautiful blend, 

A quest for belonging that has no end. 

Caught in the middle, feeling the push, 

Lost in the quiet, the elegant hush.

Where do I fit, where do I stand?