In My Own Skin

I’m a child of immigrants.
My Father was born in Mexico.
My Mother was born and raised in El Salvador.
I was born in San Francisco.

I was brought up loving tamales, pupusas, and hamburgers.
I spoke Spanish.
I spoke English.
I embraced everyone regardless of nationality, ethnicity or color.
I never had to think about it before.

I grew up with white kids.
And all I wanted was to fit in,
But they were too concerned with the color of my skin.
They said there was something not right.
They said I was too Brown to be White.

I moved to a place with very little white kids.
In this brand new place,
I was surrounded by brown faces.
But they were too concerned with the sound of my voice.
They would look at me and frown.
They said something was not right.
They said I was too White to be Brown.

I didn’t speak enough Spanish,
I had the wrong accent.
They said I looked white,
They said that something was not right.
How could I be Brown when I acted so White?

I was stuck in this limbo
It was a terrifying place.
Some were telling me there was something wrong with my face
Others had a problem with the sound of my voice
They all said I needed to make a choice.
I could only be one.
Brown or White.

But they all said something was not right.
I was too Brown to be White,
And I was too White to be Brown.

For a time that was far too long.
I believed that I was wrong.
I believed that there was something about me that was not right.
Now I realize it had nothing to do with being too brown or too white.

The problem was I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin.
I was too concerned with fitting in.
I didn’t see how happy I could be
Just by being me.

They all said something was not right.
But I saw the light.
If people can’t accept me for who I am
Screw ‘em.
I’m going to continue being me
And that makes me perfectly happy.