Yeah,

He drove a white truck,

Couldn’t tell you the make or model because I wasn’t paying attention.

I was minding my own business, waiting to cross the street, my mind on the
subway club swinging from my wrist and how very delicious it was going to be
once I got the chance to eat it.

So when this 60 something year old man pulled up to the intersection, pausing
to turn on to the main road, I paid absolutely no mind,

Encompassed within that pausing moment, that head to toe glance, things were
written on to my body.

Labels, categories, stereotypes,

all of my sudden “must be” truths.

The feeling must have swollen up so intensely inside him he couldn’t help but
verbalize his aggression.

My mind, once thinking about food and it’s many flavors, was snatched away as
I was now to walk home under the weight of his judgment.

SPIC

laid thick and heavy upon my chest, as I was left standing stunned stupid with
shock on the corner.

No, I wasn’t surprised; I have been branded with this word before,

But before this time, it was never truly acknowledged as something that hurt
me by others.

When you’re several shades of gray, others have a tendency to push you away
from the side of the spectrum they’re located at. At least, that’s been my
experience.

Not white enuf, not dark enuf,

So when racial slurs have been thrown my way in the past, those who identified
with parts of me decided I am not whole enuf for it to matter, my experiences
were

m a r g i n a l i z e d .

Now it’s different, now I am in a culture where strangers call me brown,

Where being me as a whole, being

m u l t i r a c i a l

Is respected, my experiences

i n c l u d e d ,

Even if my listener doesn’t fully identify with or understand my position.

It makes things easier,

It makes things harder.