My Stab at Creating a Def Poem

Angry Brown Girl
by Crystal Washington

Can you guess what's wrong
with the color of my skin?
Is this why I will never fit in?
It's a crime to be two shades darker than linen.
Why are dark colors always worn by the villians?
Yes, I am a brown girl, a brown woman
Get it right.
Just a motherfucking shadow in the dark of the night.
Don't mind me lurking. Ignore me as I pass by.
But just one sight of my chocolate face... Don't try to deny
You know you judge me. Before you get to know me.
I'm supposed to talk how I'm supposed to talk. Walk how I'm supposed to walk.
Dress, believe, strive, live, love, breathe. How I'm supposed to? Is it all that different from you?
Should I be a walking stereotype, just for you?
Everytime I roll out, the cops roll in. At the airports, I'm searched, again and again.
Am I a terrorist? My mind and my tongue are weapons of mass destruction.
But I'm just a sweet brown girl on the inside.
An interracial Jekyll and Hydye.
When I tell you my name isn't Laquisha, are you surprised?
Or that I don't eat rice, every damn day of my life?
Don't try to love me, just hate me, just try to escape me.
But I guess you think I can run fast too?
Cook for you? Clean for you? Cut your lawn and bow down to you?
Yes'm mas'er. No sir. Like my ancestors? Take away their dignity, their lives, their rights
Take them from their home, work the husband to death, rape his wife?
Take them down, from an African princess wearing her crown
to a slave girl you whip to the ground. I will not bow down.
No mas'er. No sir. Fuck no. Fuck you for thinking so.
What about my eyes? From my mother's side. They'e slanted, almond, small in size.
Fetish? I'm not your fucking mail order prize.
I'm a person. A woman. I speak my mind.
I'm speaking a different language, a different tune. A different song.
They tell me, "si Crystal ay maganda", you say I'm wrong.
I'm sorry, am I too "ethnic" for you?
Are my lips too full for you? My booty too bootylicious for you?
My eyes too slit for you? My nose too wide for you?
My hair too coarse and curly for you?
Can you handle all this woman?
Does my food stink to you? My fish sauce. My collard greens with hot sauce.
My traditions, my beliefs not "normal" enough for you?
I am who I am and I'm not changing. Not for a man. Not for you, American.
But what can I do? You share with me this same ground, this same country, this same world so wide.
I can't change you. I can't control you. I don't even know you.
But I won't run away and hide. Bottle up all the tears all these years, that I have cried.
Never wavering, always holding on to my pride.
What can I do but sit here, continue to stand in the background,
and make this angry brown girl shut the fuck up, and stay inside, until the day I die.