Peola and I

"Imitation of Life, a film from 1934,
Such a tragic life to have to endure.
I never heard of such a story ever before,
Since it was brought to my attention, I had to learn more.

Delilah, the mother was heartbroken that her daughter would be so cruel,
Her own baby girl grew up to hate part of herself that she even dropped out of school.
She went to college for the African descent,
Yet her skin was so white, her mother did not take the hint.
Peola was her name,
Playing white was her game.
To fit in with white society and deny her own mother,
Even passing in the streets they couldn't talk to each other.

Peola was always embarrassed of her mother's skin,
It seemed like her mother could never win.
Delilah never thought of her blessing as a sin,
But Peola refused to claim her as her kin.

Eventually Delilah fell ill,
At this point in time it was too hard for her to heal!
As she dies forgiving her daughter for everything,
The black servants spiritually sang.
Peola arrived with tears in her eyes,
Begging for forgiveness as she cries.

I chose to write this poem because I was once the same,
I found out my father was black and I was angry that he never came.
I thought I was white like my mother, I was so shocked,
It made so much since on why I was always mocked.
I finally met him and he broke many promises that he made,
I cried and balled, wondering why my father never stayed.
As I became older I disclaimed being black,
I was full of so much hatred I never looked back!
My father broke my heart and I wanted him to suffer horribly,
All the pain I went through that made my life hard incredibly.
Not to mention watching my mother being abused by many black men she was with,
Too horrifying and too much to forget.

Then one day my mother sent me to live with my father at sixteen years old,
That the truth I have been waiting for was finally told.
Thanks to my family on my father's side,
I no longer had to feel like I had to hide.
This is who I am, even if others tell me I am not right,
I am a woman that is both black and white.

Peola and I, may have lives different lives we had to defend,
However, we both received the same brutal criticism from prejudice people in the end.
To most people we are outcasts and unwanted,
The abominations, the hated, the hunted.
She embraced herself later on and lived as her mother prayed,
As for me, I am just proud to be made.
I am thankful for being created,
No matter if I am hated.
I am here for a reason,
Not just for a season.
I am loved and respected as any,
I am a Mulatto like many.

By DakotaJane Myers