Who I Am Poem by Alexandra Yeboah

You may not like the colour of my skin
whether it mocks the tawny mare of a lion
strolling through the Savannah
or whether it emulates the wings
of an eagle escalating over Alaska’s milky mountains.

You may not comprehend the known traditions of my culture,
whether I greet you with a kiss on both cheeks
decorate my body with a bindi
talk to you in accelerated Patois
or dance in Ashanti style.

You may laugh at the number the arrow
falls on the weight scale
when I’m propped on it,
and what I packed for lunch may cause
you to point and whisper.

Maybe my eyes are too far apart,
my nose too miniscule,
my lips may stretch too wide,
my ears may stick out a little too much,
or possibly my chest is too flat.



So I guess you aren’t too fond of the
zebra-printed t-shirt I wore to school today,
or the blond streaks in my short black hair.

I guess you didn’t find that joke I made earlier
too funny,
maybe my laugh was too loud
or maybe my quirky nature throws you off.

So I don’t sport as much curves as Beyonce,
my hair isn’t always ready to be tamed,
maybe you don’t like the fact that I feel
the need to take a book everywhere.

But guess what?
I don’t care.
God made me beautiful in the skin that I’m in,
I hardly need your approval.
So if you can’t accept me
then I can’t help that.
Because like it or not, that’s Who I am.