Pale
A friend once put his arm next to mine,
In that loud classroom from school days lost in time.
He drew with his finger a boundary between his pale skin and mine duller,
“Your skin grew darker but I escaped and retained my color.”
With his words he made me feel a prisoner in my own body glove,
Making me conscious of things I’d never even thought of.
He escaped, shackling me to a wall of self-doubt,
Leaving me caged in my cell of insecurities with no way out.
“Have you been playing out in the sun a lot?”
An old teacher I’d met after two years voiced her thought.
I was told sunlight was poison, radiating across the planet unseen,
I was to avoid it at all costs and to never forget to use sunscreen.
Fair was lovely. Fair was handsome.
Ironic how unfairly they sold society for a hefty ransom;
Ads and propaganda were served with a side of brainwashing too,
Shoved down our throats remorseless, out of the blue.
“You look white in this photo,”
Was considered a compliment though.
Harmless, casual and well-intentioned of course,
Yet it is from these ideals that we must ourselves divorce.
In real life there are no filters we can use,
But to celebrate all colors, we can always choose.
