Poem of the Day:  Walking Stereotype 

They say I like whites girl simply because I was married to one. They say I’m not black enough because I don’t speak that urban tongue. I was called an Oreo because I spoke well. I was made fun of by all races, but fuck them, they all can go to hell. They say shit just to say shit, without any real meaning. But I’m super sensitive to all things that are ignorant. My Buddhist teaching tells me to let it go, but the environment I grew up in is saying “Let them know!”. So I gotta express my opinion to the fullest, I hate stereotypes, and everybody who uses them. Dark skin, earrings, tattoos, and a backwards hat does not define me. You don’t know who I am. You can’t look at me and predict you know where I’ve been, or who my friends are, nor my next of kin. My soul can’t be defined by the options you give when they ask you on a form, “What’s your ethnicity?” They always questioning and trying to place you into a category. But all I can be is me, forever able to roam free.  

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