My Ivory skin is far from thin.
Not yellow enough to be viewed as Asian,
Not white enough for American persuasion.
I navigate the world as the only daughter,
Reaching goals, looking for the approval of a father.
My ivory skin defines my worth to some,
Just trying to fit in and overcome.
I see the tweets #StopAsainHate,
But can I even participate?
I don’t know the language or customs,
Americans complain my people are just fussin’
They blame us for the Coronavirus; calling it the kung flu.
When will it be over? No one knew.
The hate and stigma are real.
When will this nation be ready to heal?
Eight dead in Atlanta killed by a sex crazed addict.
Tucker Carlson on the news spewing out static.
Asian beauty defined by a slanted eye and some BB cream.
When our parents just brought us here to chase the American dream.
Yellow fever and other over-sexualized remarks.
Ask any girl, junior high’s when it starts.
Will I ever be accepted for just being me?
Will I ever feel acknowledged and finally free?
Will both sides of my family always look sideways at me?
Or will they ever agree?
My birth brought peace to two families divided,
A marriage so taboo my parents had to hide it.
In all my 33 years a lot has changed.
My father’s side is now rearranged.
Last month my cousin married a handsome white man,
Including me, only the 4th in marriage to accept an American’s hand.
My Ivory skin is tough as bone
And America will forever be home.
Racism is rampant on both sides of the aisle,
If you can’t see that then you’re just in denial.
