White Washed Eyes

My first doll's name was India,

an intentional gift

to ensure acceptance

of others.

Her beautiful melanin

contrasting my own.

Adoringly, I carried her everywhere

naive to the stares of strangers.

I didn't see color...

Raised in the culturally diverse Eden, 

of married student housing,

my friends reflected

the promise of a nation,

freedom was self-evident.

Unquestioned.

Fed on the belief in equality,

Yet embodying the ideal...

That visor shielded

me from other worlds. 

Noticing but not yet distinguishing 

vital signs.

Passing years brought injustices

of gendered norms

while I remained oblivious 

to skin's privilege...

my world still reflecting

that unfulfilled notion,

all men are created equal.

Nearly two decades lived, 

safely cradled
in those patriotic colors  
red, white, and blue. 

Until, I started to see,

with my own white eyes

the bullied friend, 

the profiled date, 

the segregated wedding

like ocular implants 

finally bringing into focus 

My distorted view.

The double standards 

endowed by their creators

to stifle life, happiness...

morsels of oppression savored,ignored, or denied. 

making us divisible.

I saw color, a harvest, 

of amber waves,

of red and brown soil,

birthing the fruits of liberty

one difficult labor at a time.

Each baby crowning

thy good, America 

with sisterhood...

My first dolls name was India.

Adoringly, my daughter carries her, 
and I am keenly aware

of the shades of freedom 

she must be taught

To SEE ...



photo credit: https://www.wish.com/c/silver-eye-contacts-4fa6d44bb233951b4b000a41