To the girl in the back of the classroom:
I see you,
Trying so hard to sink down in your chair shield yourself from the rest of the world
But those large frizzy curls that stick out and up from your face.
They won’t let you.
And everything else thats large on you,
From your thighs to your hips to your arms
And your loud voice that you’ve always tried to quiet down.
Your features are yelling at bystanders to notice them.
According to your middle school classmate, they were too, begging to be ridiculed
From the moment you step into a space.
White girls are already crowding your face poking and pulling, stretching your coils with their sticky soiled fingers and without your consent.
They’re fascinated, they’ve never seen such black and kinky hair before.
So you become their new circus monkey.
An ape, you don’t feel too far from it do you?
That’s what your 8th grade crush called you right? A chimpanzee.
With your hairy arms and melanin drenched skin
You're an animal, that’s what they see you as.
As 1 of 3 little brown kids in your 60 student pre-K
You tried to fit in so badly, begging your mother to pack you lunchables instead of savory thick molé
You pleaded god every night to please rid your tongue, of your sweet latin accent
That bled through every word you said as your mouth was born trained to harshly rolls it’s r’s and skip vowels.
But as you began to realize through your pre-teen years
No one likes talking to chubby tall earth toned girls.
Now you hide yourself, under baggy clothes and a meek voice.
You’ve subdued your once vibrant coffee eyes.
Replaced is the girl who despite being spat slurs at still tried to speak up in class.
When did you decide you just weren’t worth fighting for anymore?
You were created to be loud and thunderous to be smack dab in the front of the room with all eyes on you, rejoicing in all the attention I see you but I want everyone to start seeing you too.