Draft Box

what if I am
white
with tea stained skin?

my father shook his head
after quizzing me
on our Culture's Ten Commandments

ready to put me on the altar
for the Nation Imaginary

I ran away
hid in a book
but my guilt and obligation
found me

as it always does, as it
always will

I am denied
and imposed on
in the same breath

craved for my ugliness (beauty)
sought for my skill (mouldability)
applauded for my biculturalism (acting)

success is white
so it is never mine
or
I contradict my existence

sell-out
white-wash

ashamed of what I dare to name
(a pain that's mine)