I was fifteen and right into my first love when I asked my mother
but what if he was black, would I be able to bring him home if he was black
my mother fell silent, my father said " love grows where it grows
if you could love him even when he was black, than your home will be his"
my mother added "but you wouldn't be able to bring him to your grandmother"
because altough my home would be his home (if I could love him even when he's black)
my past of getting cookies and playing with toys wouldn't make him any more welcome
there was not one black man in my life
my family screams privilige
no divorces, no drugs histories
only one aunt smokes, hides it from my grandmother
like I should hide him from my grandmother
for years