Books Which Are Meant For Everyone

I see characters with brown faces,

chubby hands and feet tanned under the sun,

But I can’t see myself in these books which are meant for everyone.

I see frizzy hair and dark freckles,

I see eyes the shape of almonds,

But I can’t see myself in these books which are meant for everyone.

White characters painted brown are a mask, not a mirror.

Pages that set childhood in blanched unfamiliar scenes,

Tell brown babies this is the only way to be seen.

Being brown isn’t just skin deep,

It drips from our mother tongue,

It can be tasted from the recipes of our grandmothers.

It is woven into the fabric of homes,

It is draped over our skin like a mantle

And perfumes our lives with scents from our native land.

It’s the memories that live on through the tales of our people.

It’s the spirit in our veins of ancestors who fought to survive.

It’s the lessons we learnt from a world that only saw black and white.

It’s the values we hold dear and pass on like heirlooms of gold.

There’s a richness in my culture

That I don’t see in the books which are meant for everyone.

The narrative of my history and heritage gets erased

From the books which are meant for everyone.

What I hear is that everyone matters, except for me.