Post by thepoetslizard on Oct 10, 2008 15:53:56 GMT 2
Jade A. del Castillo majored in psychology and English at Tufts University in Massachusetts. She writes poetry and fiction and also has experience teaching poetry at a junior high school in Charlestown, MA. As an avid student and writer of poetry and prose herself, she plans to pursue writing in the future. Her other hobbies include photography and dance, including Filipino cultural dancing.
I never belonged to brown the way my ancestors did. I have never owned olive or even burnt-sienna. I’ve never worn a color that allowed me to belong.
Malayans will not take me into their brown hut villages. They will not hold my tanned hands. They fear the white that bleached me. They do not know I come from Ireland and Austria and from the country they call home. They do not know we share ancient blood, that we are kin, separated Only by color.
My eyes are neither oval nor slitted like button-holes. But they are mine and I am still a Filipina child. And I come from the Spanish Who invaded you, my country.
And I will always call you home, even if you don’t know me and my colors repulse you, because it was You, you that gave me my rainbow color.
You that colored me nothing.
Last Edit: Oct 29, 2008 21:00:14 GMT 2 by shayepoet