I’m losing myself in white spaces.
I’m one black stripe on a white zebra.
One white zebra with one black stripe
In a herd of all-white zebras.
I’m a dripping teabag over a cup of milk.
But I only have one drop,
And that I have already spent.
I’m a very weak cup of tea.
I’m the token black.
Last week a boy called John
Told me that I have the kind of beauty
That in the African paradigm of beauty
Would be considered beautiful.
I’m beautiful for a black girl.
I’m Fabulous. I’m Sassy.
I’m “you don’t know that song?”
I’m “I’m blacker than you are.”
But I’m really Brenda Fassie.
I’m the Madonna of the Townships.
I’m Vulindlela and Qongqothwane.
I’m Miriam Makeba.
I want to call flip flops mapatapata
And traffic lights robots.
I sometimes think English
And speak Shona
But I don’t know that song.
And you’re not blacker than me.
While you were trading
Racist Sickipedia jokes
I painted the zebra black.
I left one white stripe on its belly.
It might also interest you to know
That I’m beautiful.
In all paradigms.