Negrita

I walk past a mirror and hope I’m not too “black”.
I walk out the door and hope I make it back home.
I walk past some cops and hope nothing I do “scares” them.
I walk into a store and hope the owner doesn’t accuse me of theft.
I walk past a nice house and hope the owners don’t assume I’m suspicious.
I walk out of my house each day knowing it could be my last.

 

©Esther Moreira

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