What do you see when you look at me?
Don’t answer that, cuz you don’t even KNOW me.
In this life, up on this stage
A voice for the young world
A short, little, nappy-headed black girl
Society told me who I ought to be
Before I even had the chance
We ARE FOOLS
FOOLS and TOOLS of an approved, yet bruised
And silent, yet imperative system of
YOU can be ME-
BUT I COULD NOT, I COULD NEVER BE YOU.
But I am supposed to smile
And believe in SAID possibilities
I cannot complain, I can not assess, STATE HOW I FEEL-
But as I WRITE? Oh yes,
Do I, YES, will I,- BLUNTLY address-
As I play my part to move up the ladder of stature, VALUE, WORTH and success- I am not a joke
This is not a game
Or a MOCKERY
Do you KNOW what you see when you look at me?
Let me enlighten you on who stands before you, Ranequa La’Kae
And yes, that is my ENTIRE, very “ghetto” government identity
no nicknames, no short change.
You know, I’m just a happy-go-lucky kind of Black person –
A sort of, kind of, proud citizen
Forced to come here, and unfortunately don’t wanna leave
That is so AWFULLY ashamed
To identify as an American –
But here I am bitches