I Am

When I was much younger, I went to hear Maya Angelo speak at a local college. She related how most white people miss the hue of black skin, thinking of it merely as "dark." She read a poem by Langston Hughes, celebrating the many colors of blackness. I thought about this. And I thought of how white skin has its own hues. This poem is an exploration of those thoughts and the others that presented themselves. Who am I? Where do I belong? I no longer categorize myself as white, although my skin color invokes that assumption in others.

I am human, woman
24 years of taking shape
Expanding into two legs,
Hips, stomach, breasts, arms,
Face unlined because I
Do not yet know my history

I am woman, white
With hue of almond slivers,
Boiled potatoes, mayonnaise,
Rice cakes, bean curd, unflavored
But eyes like sea water and hair
Wild streams of walnut shavings

I am white, Jewish
Hungarian, Polish, Russian
First, second, third generation
American atheist
Marking culture because it has infused me blindly
Rapidly whispering endless sorrows

I am Jewish, lesbian
Finding new family whose bonds
Are warmth of woman-love-woman
With a cautious strength as we
Emerge newborn and kicking
From a slowly shrinking silence

I am lesbian, human
24 years of taking shape
Expanding into four worlds
Like the four sides of my center
My lines gently take presence
As my worlds learn to grasp their past

Written February 8-18, 1988

Cyndi / Last Modified: 9/14/97

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