Still questioning my place in this world
I was born out of sin, this young black girl
Or at least black is how I've always been classified
But that counts out part of my history,
So it seems everyone has lied
I'm too light bright, but not quite white
My eyes change like chameleons skin
Photosensitive and the topic of many discussions
As a child I wanted black girl, brown eyes
So old men would stay out of my face
Not a hood girl, but not quite proper enough
Still searching for... because I'm so displaced
They said I had "good hair," but for years it was relaxed
I chopped it off to go all natural
And folks thought I was mentally off track
Little do folks know, I've got that bi-racial hair
Proof of my ancestors of slaves and their masters
Mixed with natives who had their land taken forcibly
From curls, to straight, to naturally nappy
My hair is three grades of proof
Of three different parts of me
