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Like a brown battlefield where soldiers are afraid to cross each other’s breathing air, the dandruff in my hair doesn’t cross the border where my brown skin starts from.
Racism doesn’t only exist in books, but it is there is my hair, my being – where white never invades the brown without falling down on my eyebrows or lashes. What am I to do ma, if not cease to exist when there is a battle erupting on the very body part which is capable of existing on it’s own?
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a.n/ – honestly, this has to be the most random and creative prompts I have written on since my block.
