When I was 18 I was faced with the harsh realities of the world.
I found myself barely an adult and faced with one of the most puzzling questions I would ever receive.
"What will people think?"
The color of my skin on his was seen as wrong and different.
Upon entering adulthood I entered a troubled world.
One where "all men are created equal" but not seen as such.
Those two things are not alike.
We are not the same and claiming you don't see color is not a comfort.
Claiming you don't see color means you ignore - not embrace.
Claiming you don't see color erases the history. The past.
It teaches you to ignore differences rather than celebrate.
I entered a world where love is only accepted if you're the same color but when I introduced him to mama, she didn't see the problem.
When I was 18 I entered a world full of racism and prejudice.
A world where I was constantly reminded of the color of my skin
And the color of his.
A world where we're always referred to as a "black boy" and a "white girl".
We don't look the same but our hearts bleed the same color and I'll be damned before the day you tell me that the color of my skin on his isn't beautiful.