“Its so good we became citizens”
“Que bueno que nos hicimos citizen”
She said this with so much relief, that my proudness cringed and shame rejoiced.
“I hope they don’t look like one of us”
Despite living on the other side of the world, I clearly heard all of her fears unloading of her shoulders.
These words felt so heavy in my heart, it tipped over the buckets of tears.
Rippling with frustration down my face, carving small pockets of hope along the way.
Without hesitation the tears hiked back up my eyes, collecting the remnants of faith for another day of battle.
At that moment the phone call became part of the stream of pain that connected our reality of brownness.
She has only given me the eyes to witness the love that she holds for her origins.
The world will never truly know her spirit like I do. Phenomenal.
She soon understood that I would remind her, gruesomely remind her, that the red, white and blue will never wash out our blackness from our roots.
I heard the pain through her sigh like a pounding alarm. I still do.
Mami, you can not exfoliate your skin from our origins, they run to deep within, you are passing to gray.
Like that sorrow of gray that hovered over your consciousness for days, when the man, made you realize that you were black.
Yes mami we are black and assimilation to the red, white and blue will never be enough to lynch your true identity.