My skin
Is not a sin
I live in it
I wouldn’t move out even if I could
I love my skin
The colour of Mother Earth
Glowing in the rays of Father Sun
A little black girl skipping happily
Feeling content and loved by all
Far away from home, my skin is a source of angst
They don’t understand
That my skin is my pride and joy
Far away from home my skin is a source of angst
Caught in the crosshairs of racism
My skin is a shell
But in a world obsessed with the superficial
Packaging is everything
My skin is judged without mercy
I feel it in my bones
So much hate
Resentment and discrimination
Against a skin colour I did not choose
My skin is a beautiful gift
I wouldn’t trade it for a pot of gold
My skin matters to some
Not the content of my character
But my colour is only skin deep
Some look at me with suspicion
I am guilty
By virtue of my skin
At the store, May I help you?
Is code word for I’m watching you
Elsewhere I get the look
What is she doing here?
They ask without speaking
I get the look
To the police my skin spells trouble
But I mean no harm
Hands up don’t shoot
My skin is a gift from God
Not a death sentence
My melanin-rich skin is a blessing to celebrate
Not a curse to be condemned
I strut in the skin of kings and queens
Pure mahogany
Ebony in its pure form
Unbowed and unbroken I stand tall
In my skin
By Yvonne Tagoe
Yvonne is a journalist and the mother of two bright young women. She is from Ghana, but Canada is her second home. She is passionate about news and the human condition. She loves to read and to write. Cooking, to Yvonne, is more of a hobby than a chore. Her love for travelling has taken her to Cuba, to the US and to Japan, with more places to follow. She enjoys writing poetry. https://www.linkedin.com/in/yvonne-tagoe-48b20010/
