Why is my skin so pale?
My eyes, why are they quivering in their sockets?
Why do other kids at school stare at me, with curiosity and confusion?
Mother, let’s go to that far away land, there, where everyone is as white as I am.
Where there are less black faces.
Yes, those people I see on TV with pointed noses.
I would blend in over there.
But mama said,
“My child, God was tired of creating the usual,
and decided to make a goddess. Crowned with golden hair, and adorned with eyes made of rare gem.”
She said I was made on a Sunday morning unlike other kids at school who were made at night.
And that was why I had a skin like the morning sun.
And so, I carried my self with pride.
My shoulders upright.
Ever waiting for every morning.
For school, where I would showcase my qualities.
I’m grown now, and I know my condition is called albinism. Buh I haven’t gotten off the thought that I am a goddess.