DON'T PAINT ME WHITE
Because I live in blackness,
because my mother is a huckster who dwells on the bleak, shoddy colour...
like the mettlesomeness of an anxious bird, kissing its gullible self--
because you spew on me your faded paint,
adjusting my body to accept your 'chamelion colour',
Not at all, not again, you crooks,
I have known discrimination for a long time; even when my Africa was not born,
I just graduated from humiliation--when nepotism was the God I worshipped,
like "Fofo's" taunt of criticism in 'Faceless',
like Floyd's lifeless body, gasping for a minute breath, to taste the wind in the world...
You want to sow a whoredom on me, like placards...an epitaph...
I'm a monkey-donkey, your utterances want to create a liturgy to mock my earth-skin,
just because of my skin, glowing like the tantalizing body of my childhood. You are jealous!
I want to fall back to childhood again, to paint charcoal on the compound of every door,
and question my grandmother, when I stare rightly at her skin;
I'm I black enough...to be able to win.
Should I walk in the thorns of other colours, to prove my blackness?
Don't call me by your name sake, I don't fake.
Don't get it twisted enough, within me is light.
Don't get it twisted enough, and don't paint me white.
© K. Asare-Bediako
Bio: Albert Asare Kweku, writing as K. Asare-Bediako, is a young upcoming Ghanaian writer, teacher, coach and poet. He chose writing as a therapy to aid him breathe away his thoughts about his unseen father from birth. When he is not writing, he is either singing or learning a song, reading and watching TV.