Are you a racist? I asked with fear in my voice. 
My voice broke as I asked the question. 
It was slightly dangerous.
I could see the rage in your eyes from me pointing out the obvious.

You are a racist!
You put me down because I’m brown.
Your condescending voice strikes my intelligence as if you wanted to believe you were smarter than me. 
Tell me, are you a racist?

I wanted you to say yes but at the same time I was hoping for a no. 
Would you rather answer another question?
Are you afraid of showing who you really are? 
Your answer would not change what I think of you, but could it change what you think of me?


My eyes touched yours. 
It was as if I was telling you that I knew without you knowing. 
You did not like me because of the color of my skin or my accent. 
I was shaking inside.
I knew what you were, and you knew what I was. 

You were racist and you were racist because of people like me.
It felt like it was my fault. 
You did not hesitate to remind me that I was not enough for you and your ideals.
Fear invaded my body telling me I was doing something wrong.
I was only confronting you and telling you what you are.
Did you not think you were like this? 

Tell me how your actions keep putting me down,
 how your words hurt me and my people,
 and lastly tell me why you do it.

Your words remind me why I should not be afraid. 
You remind me why I should be here.
I was not scared of calling you a racist, 
I just did not know that I was this resilient.
P.S. To the one who hates the color of my skin and where I come from; This one is for you.
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