Colours

When you say to me that you do not see colour,

It does not exonerate you,

It does not make you seem impartial

It does not make you absolve you of your racism.

My colour is my culture

It is the blood pulsing form my hearth and through my veins

It is the thoughts erupting from my brain.

My colour is my history

It is my family

It is me.

When you say to me that you do not see colour,

It erases me

It makes you guilty of ignorance

My people have been through genocides (and notice the plural tense).

They have been starved of freedom

They thirst for independence

My people do not want to hear that you are “colour blind”

It makes you a heinous slaughterer

It makes you a destroyer of heritage.

I ask of you

I NEED you to see my colour

See my history

See my family

See me.

But do not discriminate because of it

It does not grant you to separate

It does not grant you to look down upon

Because centuries and generations of my people

Have fought for the opportunity for freedom;

Opportunities that you utilize to demand your superiority.

To declare that you are blind to my history

Blind to my family

Blind to me.