The Colour of Hate
Prose poem
I try hard not to hate whiteness. The world doesn't need the added mess of my hate tussled in it.
But when white faces glared into those of black men as they kneeled on their necks; and white hands claiming to be blessed, dug their nails into the flesh of native children; and white feet pressed on the peddle of a pickup truck that struck a Muslim family, on an evening stroll, just steps from their home...how do I suppress my hate.
Then my son goes to a pool party. He eagerly asks a girl if she can let him in the imaginary house they've all been building. She says no because his "skin is ugly". He asks why and she replies, while her Indian mother and Peruvian father are none the wise... “because your skin is brown”.
The colour of hate - it knows no bounds.
© Wilfreda Edward 2021
Thanks to J.D. Harms for this Saturday’s social consequences prompt.
