What I should have said -

In middle school I was judged and dismissed by a high school boy who saw me and commented on my appearance. 

I’m sure that day I had dark skin, especially browned from the summer sun,

unruly black hair, frizzy, and thick.

I may not remember the words exactly

but I can remember how the words made me feel - dismissed and

Remiss to be me.

Someone straight from the jungle.

Someone fresh off the boat.

And I’m sure that moment shriveled me into a speck

of shame, of remorse

And in that moment, I did not even feel anger, some level of rage - 

Instead I felt like I took up too much space,

Space that should have been occupied by someone lighter - 

More refined,

From the city, with straightened hair, and land-locked legs

Who had never needed to board a boat, even though I was born here. 

Even now, I think back to this moment in time, that still smarts like a skinned knee

brushing against the fabric of what I now know and how I wished I had responded - 

I wish I had known to dismiss his comment

And instead addressed how remiss his notions are of my identity - 

How differences - like my brown skin, a warm copper from the sun

And my thick hair, given to me by my parents - 

Don’t exist in a hierarchy of what’s bad, what’s better, what’s best.

How your contempt and disgust at my appearance does not give you a right

to look with superiority upon people who don’t look like you.

Light skinned, male, a carbon-copy of other high school boys with exaggerated swag.

How dare you feel like you have the right to label me,

to place me into an “other” column simply because I look different than you.

Instead, I would have said, not shriveled, but expansive

like an inflating balloon - 

Seething with focused, burning intent - 

Fuck you.