Dear the Oppressed,

I never saw color,
And no I’m not colorblind,
This is hard to explain,
But I’ve never seen color,
Of the skin.

I get so frustrated when,
A race looks at me,

When they’re talking about oppression,

And racism.
I hate it.

Like I’m a problem,
Being white.

I don’t see color,

I see a personality or something else,

Something from an alternate universe,

Maybe it’s my gift.
Maybe I’m supposed to teach people about it.

I don’t see race as a problem,
But when other people do,
And they see me as:

Basic White Girl
Teenage white girl.
White Female.

Yes I am white.
That is the color of my skin.

But when I see other races,
I feel intelligent,
I feel their energy,
Their happiness,
Feelings,
See how smart they are,
The personalities.

An ally,
A friend,
A family member.
So why do you stare at me,

When you’re talking about racism,
And oppression,
Like I’m a problem.

I’m not a problem.
but my color is.