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i told them my name
I told them my name
I fought with my eyes
All they saw were ribs
Blond hair, jaundiced, sickled skin.
I told them my name,
Tried to clasp fistfuls of my breath
All they saw was ink,
The jacket, the print.
I told them my name
From golden kingdoms, black doves
All they saw was black,
Just like the other ones.
Once I told them my name
With long due hesitation,
But to my regrets
They assumed I was one in the millions.
I told them my name,
You told them your name,
They told us their name,
And none of us listened.

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"...and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete."
-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie