This is a poem I wrote and used to perform, about my experiences of growing up mixed race in a racist society.
You can hear me performing it on the CD Tribal Voices 6.
You can hear me performing it on the CD Tribal Voices 6.
ME TWO
Me two, three four five six,
Sticks and stones might break my bones
But names will never
Street-wise anarchist or nice Asian girl,
Clashing of cultures my mind’s in a whirl
Swirling and twirling caught between worlds,
The me that is me shines like a pearl.
I’m a light brown coconut turned inside out
Scraped dry by expectations I act like a lout,
Cursing and spitting arms flailing I’m mad,
I shout from the rooftops “I’m me so I am,
And if you don’t like it then fuck off and die!”
But I also sit demurely
Have another cup of tea,
Do these shoes look ok?
Shall I wear this sari?
“Are you covered in chocolate?
Does it come off in the bath?
Don’t get upset we’re only having a laugh.”
Cold curry for breakfast, love on a plate,
Kirribath and lunumirris, machung means mate
Man I’m not lying when I say I am my roots.
I’m a tree with many branches,
A strong standing oak.
A bo-tree with branches,
Been mistaken for a bloke!
Man, woman, black white beige,
“We’re all the fucking same!” I scream out in rage.
It’s all the same old game
I don’t even know my name,
Mel, Melissa, Melly, Smellyakki,
I might be Italian or even a paki,
A carib an arab, a gypsy rose lea
Times I don’t know who I want to be.
I’m a half and half baby a mixed up kid,
Looking for answers I did what I did.
I did what I did what I had to do,
“Beautiful skin colour wish I looked like you”
People say, like I’m locked in a zoo.
Needing identity I’m all things and none,
Multi-personality a schizophrenic on the run.
Running from myself I’ve been running so long
I’ve screwed up my health.
Oh the stories I could tell
Of the things I have seen,
On my travels round myself to find out who I am.
In this world of dualities I feel like a sham,
Not black enough, not white enough,
Not fucking mixed race enough.
Most of my life I’ve been a spectator
At other peoples’ parties.
A half-cast.
A traitor.
Me two, three four five six,
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But names will never
I might be psychotic or even a paki,
A carib an arab, a gypsy rose lea,
I think I know who I want to be.
A masala of surprises, a free floating dream
‘Cos things are never quite what they seem.
Rainbow of possibilities, moon and the sun,
Skipping between worlds, a goddess having fun.
I’m a zebra, a panda, a piebald pony,
If you speak to me softly my name means honey.
I’m a many petalled dog rose,
I’m a lotus on the water,
A child of the universe
And a total nutter
Me two walking between worlds…….
Me.
One.
Me two, three four five six,
Sticks and stones might break my bones
But names will never
Street-wise anarchist or nice Asian girl,
Clashing of cultures my mind’s in a whirl
Swirling and twirling caught between worlds,
The me that is me shines like a pearl.
I’m a light brown coconut turned inside out
Scraped dry by expectations I act like a lout,
Cursing and spitting arms flailing I’m mad,
I shout from the rooftops “I’m me so I am,
And if you don’t like it then fuck off and die!”
But I also sit demurely
Have another cup of tea,
Do these shoes look ok?
Shall I wear this sari?
“Are you covered in chocolate?
Does it come off in the bath?
Don’t get upset we’re only having a laugh.”
Cold curry for breakfast, love on a plate,
Kirribath and lunumirris, machung means mate
Man I’m not lying when I say I am my roots.
I’m a tree with many branches,
A strong standing oak.
A bo-tree with branches,
Been mistaken for a bloke!
Man, woman, black white beige,
“We’re all the fucking same!” I scream out in rage.
It’s all the same old game
I don’t even know my name,
Mel, Melissa, Melly, Smellyakki,
I might be Italian or even a paki,
A carib an arab, a gypsy rose lea
Times I don’t know who I want to be.
I’m a half and half baby a mixed up kid,
Looking for answers I did what I did.
I did what I did what I had to do,
“Beautiful skin colour wish I looked like you”
People say, like I’m locked in a zoo.
Needing identity I’m all things and none,
Multi-personality a schizophrenic on the run.
Running from myself I’ve been running so long
I’ve screwed up my health.
Oh the stories I could tell
Of the things I have seen,
On my travels round myself to find out who I am.
In this world of dualities I feel like a sham,
Not black enough, not white enough,
Not fucking mixed race enough.
Most of my life I’ve been a spectator
At other peoples’ parties.
A half-cast.
A traitor.
Me two, three four five six,
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But names will never
I might be psychotic or even a paki,
A carib an arab, a gypsy rose lea,
I think I know who I want to be.
A masala of surprises, a free floating dream
‘Cos things are never quite what they seem.
Rainbow of possibilities, moon and the sun,
Skipping between worlds, a goddess having fun.
I’m a zebra, a panda, a piebald pony,
If you speak to me softly my name means honey.
I’m a many petalled dog rose,
I’m a lotus on the water,
A child of the universe
And a total nutter
Me two walking between worlds…….
Me.
One.