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Dear, America
You didn’t love the color of my hair
Or the color of my skin
You didn’t love my history
Or my language
You used to color me with white markers
And write out my flaws
Erase my love for myself
Painting in your own ideals
I soaked up those colors
Filled with hurtful slurs
Tainted with painful words
Engrained with spiteful lures
However, you changed
Claiming to adore my culture
Calling my people exotic
Considering my food a delicacy
You only love me
When it’s trendy
When it’s convenient
When it’s appealing
But I realized
That I don’t need your
Golden sticker
Of approval
I refuse to let
My culture become
A costume
Simply to amuse you,
America
Signed,
The people of color
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