For the long time I asked myself the same question.
What am I?
I found that answer.
I'm Dominican.
Pretty simple answer.
That doesn't bother me. What bothers me is the question I'm still asking myself.
What dose that mean?
I asked so people and they said
"What kinda question is that? nigga you're Dominican."
I still being young and unsatisfied with the answer asked
"What the fuck dose that mean?
Like am I black or something?"
"If you have to ask yourself that question then you should know the answer already."
So I went home and went through our history. How we fought to stay alive.
How we fought so America wouldn't completely devour us and couldn't help to think that was the blackest thing I've ever heard.
Its funny how my roots tell me I am, but at the same time they tell me I'm not. How almost every Dominican reacts the same way. Trying to cover it up like a bad tattoo.
Don't get it twisted.
I'm proud of being Dominican.
The delicious food
The dazzling culture
The gorgeous and unapologeticly loud people.
We have a dark side and an even darker side.
How we hated the Haitians for being "too dark".
How we hate each other for being "too white".
How were not enough even for ourselves.
The answer to my question seems quite simple now.
I am me.
And if that's a problem, you can kindly fuck off.
YOU ARE READING
A Boy And His Box
PoetryHey! This is my first time doing something like this so sorry if I suck. This is going to be a book mostly filled with poems I write. I'm going to do other things with later ,so of you don't like poetry stick around for some adventures. This book is...
