I wrote the heart of this poem back in 2015 when I was 16, but I stumbled upon it when I was looking through some old journals and it seemed to ring so true given the climate of the country — specifically throughout the election. The poem is not made to alienate anyone but rather to empower women of color like myself — as light as I may be — who have to navigate the intersectionality between being a woman and a person of color every single day. I stand with you all in compassionate, understanding and hope.
Women of Color
We were labeled people of color
Because they wanted to box us in—
Box me in—
Our bodies moving coffins
our names became our gravestones;
We were buried alive.
They called us people of color
when all they could see was the page,
So we ripped every crayon from the box
tightly enclosed between their fingers
and coated ourselves in the rainbow.
(Knowing, there is no definite beginning or end
But hope in progress to be made.)
