Naesthetycs
Visionary I

I wrote this poem in 2017 and published it to my Tumblr blog at the time. This poem is about colorism, which is as relevant now as it was then. Colorism is so prevalent in POC communities, and it's destructive to our communities; this is what I bring awareness to in this poem. I hope you enjoy the poem.

 

After reading,  comment below your thoughts and feel free to share a response to the discussion question at the bottom of the page.  

 

Trigger Warning: Suicide 

 

Four easy steps,

She knew them by heart: 

Wash, 

Exfoliate,

Rinse, 

And apply.

 

The now half-empty bottle

She bought from Walmart 

Was dedicated to 

All the nights she cried 

Was bullied 

And depressed. 

 

For the days 

She tried to fit in with the rest 

It was her dark skin to blame 

For the reasons she was oppressed.

This half-empty bottle of skin lightening cream was for 

The pests: The vampires. 

 

They wanted her blood.

They haunted her

Day in 

And day out

For having dark skin 

And dark circles around her mouth. 

 

For not meeting European beauty standards 

And speaking with an accent from down south.

But when she tried to change 

Into someone she was not,

Black people told her she talked “white” 

Because she used the word “literally” a lot.

 

It didn’t help that people said she talked like a color.

Yet colorism still existed in her community 

Like it was a part of the culture. 

And so did promiscuity,

Which gave a more valid argument to label dark-skin 

As impurity. 

 

Even when she rolled the dice,

It didn’t matter which side it landed on 

Because she wasn’t accepted by anyone.

Her identity was a mystery.

She did not know who she had become.

 

The vampires still haunted her 

Day in 

And day out.

They wanted her blood.

She felt like she was in the movie Get Out. 

Rose had those **bleep** keys. 

 

She felt like she was faced with defeat.

Because Rose had the keys,

She couldn’t leave.

She was stuck between 

Not a rock and a hard place 

But a knife and skin lightening cream. 

 

She didn’t want to hurt anymore.

She wanted to die.

With the knife in her hand 

She counted down from the number 

Five.

Four.

 

She slit her wrist

Until she hit the floor. 

The vampires smelled her blood, 

A smell they couldn’t ignore.

So, they opened the door

And saw where she laid.

 

They sucked her blood 

Like vultures.

It was the sweetest they had ever tasted. 

They sucked until she was tasteless, 

Breathless, 

And dead. 

 

They wished they could ask 

What kind of blood that she bled.

For her blood wasn’t blood.

Her blood was the magic that she possessed

From being a darker shade.

It tasted like the cool-aid 

Her grandmother made.

 

But, what kind of blood 

Could make her produce

Juices so sweet?

There was no explanation 

Except that she was magical 

Like a flower that grew from the concrete. 

 

A magic she didn’t even know that she held

Because it was never able to introduce itself

At her funeral her mother wrote her a farewell

And written in it was the phrase:

The blacker the berry

The sweeter the juice. 

 

This poem is dedicated to all the Black women, especially dark-skinned Black women, who have felt that being Black was too much of a burden to bear. My message to Black women is do not feel pressured to change for society. Love the skin you are in because it is beautiful and unique. Don’t let society tell you differently. 

 

Originally, the main purpose of writing this poem was to bring awareness to Black people using skin lightening creams to meet European beauty standards. However, as my pen continued to flow, I addressed more than one issue in this poem.

 

Discussion question:

With colorism, people of darker skin tones are usually treated as less than compared to their light skin counterparts. However, some lighter-skinned individuals have claimed that they too have experienced colorism because of being picked on for their skin tone and being called names such as "light bright" "yellow bone" and "red bone." What are your thoughts on this? Do you think reverse colorism exists? Comment below your thoughts.

 

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