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A Letter to the Rainbow System
Little brown girl born into a rainbow family,
Raised by the blindness and beauty that was her parents´ interracial love.
Love, as I love Mommy´s caramel-cream-smooth skin, and -
Love as I am in love with Daddy´s deliciously-deep-nutella skin-tone.
Skin-tone, let alone skin-tone.
Back when in it was just another term used for colour wheel in my imagination.
And skin-tone – until it turned into humanity´s most legitimate form of
But that was never ´til I joined Mandela´s Rainbow Nation.
Rainbow Nation, Rainbow Nation…
Made up of, millions of used-to-be-brown now black people like me.
Black people like black trash bags!
Black people like the bitter black coffee we love so much…
Like Black burnt meat,
And Black coal. Oh! -
If only this child right here was born with a choice of crayons,
Maybe then she would wear more black to school
And maybe then this child wouldn´t constantly feel like
She needs to re-write black history that did not belong to her!
Because if this sky is blue, and this grass is green
Why do you colour me black instead of brown?