(Inspired by “For Colored Girls” by Ntozake Shange)
Funny we are ruled by color.
The melanin in our skin dictates our treatment by others and by ourselves.
“Is my skin too dark?” or “Am I too light to fit in?”
Funny thing about color. Because everyone asks about the colors on the outside. The color of your hair, skin, nails and toes. The color of your clothing, purse and the car you drove.
No one asks about the colors within.
The Red you see from watching so much violence you’ve become accustomed to the rich, thick liquid staining the streets as yet another falls victim.
Orange, the once bright and vibrant color, has changed into the color of rust. The rust you see every day in your poverty stricken environment. The same one that will go so long without being taken care of that eventually it blends into the drinking water that the government says is clean.
The Yellow that cautions you to slow down. To tap the brakes on your hopes and dreams because of the societal and economical constrictions placed upon you by antiquated men that know no different and antiquated women who’re raised not to care.
Green represents the bile raising in your throat as you think about the injustice you’ve been dealt at the table called life. Nope it’s not new but it still disgusts you how the race doing the oppressing can think there’s no oppression when the oppressed race can’t move forward.
Blue is the broken and unfulfilled dreams that we hold deep inside and only think of when we’re trying to carry our crippled souls to another place. It is the deep-seeded depression that creeps up like a snake to wind its way around our brains, slowly killing us. It is the sadness that we fight so hard for others to see but work so hard to keep hidden away. It is the moment that we break down, just for a minute, so that we can shed all the dirt and negativity before rebuilding ourselves again.
Then there’s Indigo. A light at the end of the tunnel if you will. A transformative color that flickers in and out of our reality as we transform into whatever the hell we are forced to be that day. It’s a mask. It’s as public as a Michelangelo painting at the museum. It’s our cover and our cloak. We must not let everyone know our feelings and the colors they evoke. They could take advantage or worse, try to appropriate them.
Lastly there’s Violet. When we melanin-laced girls go through these colors at some time in our lives we’re often reminded that we come from royalty. We come from Kings and Queens who lived their lives in colors. They were broken and discarded but carried more dignity for themselves then those who owned them.
So this isn’t for everyone. And that’s alright.
It’s for melanin-laced girls who thinks it’s the end of the road.
It’s for melanin-laced girls who want to give up.
It’s for melanin-laced girls who don’t know which way to turn.
It’s for melanin-laced girls who need hope.
Stand strong!!! Deep inside the colors on that dirty palette you’ve been given is your Queendom. You have the power to change your hues without changing your official hue.
Even the finest pottery begins as a dull mono-toned piece of clay.
I’m Just Saying.