What is it that we see in race that we cannot see apart from it?  Why do we prefer to get closer to it than to ourselves?  This literal carnal identity, we are known by our skin.  It is the way of the world.  It is the way things are people remind me.

No other options, I can’t even take it or leave it.  I am either of this world or I cease to exist.  There is no place for those who would refuse it, which is to refute it.  Because life without racialized identities is not the real world.

I am in “La La Land.”  Snap out of it.  Colored is the only way to be a human.  We come into the world in beige, black, brown, red, yellow and white and you cannot just pick one.

Persons have already reached an agreement.  Too many are invested.  Too much has been said and done in the name of Race.  Forget your vision.  Their eyes have it.

They tell me that It is bigger than me.  They talk as if I cannot beat It so I might as well join It, that no matter what I say of myself, what matters most is how society sees me.

Cover the mirrors.  Close your eyes.  It is the blind leading the blind.  I have to ditch myself in order to join hands.  This becoming is my undoing.  She is unraveling, losing a grip on an inner reality.

Maybe we are enticed by the promise of belonging.  We come closer though dead bodies are all around.  Nobody’s moving.  We stick our necks out and take the bait.

Eyes bulging, we kick but then realize this death of self is easier if we don’t fight it.  Just give up.  It’s not worth it.  Give in to Race.

You are what It says you are.  Exhale.  Let out life as it could be and take on the blank stare of those around you and before you.  Lights out.

We are all in one box or another.  Get in where you fit in because society will do it for you.  It is easier if we climb in, arms and legs in.  Neatly packed in while crushing unique soul and willful spirit.

You are either in or you are out.  It is more important to just go with the flow, to allow the blood to drain from your face, to become one of us or one more of them.  Hold still.  Race is choking the life out of who you would be.

Still, dying to the true self is not pain- free.  We don’t really want to go down easily.  We ask, “Who am I really?”  We squirm.  We wrestle.  It is proof that there is a choice, that we can choose life or this social death.

Race is not the easy way out or the only way in.  There is no catch to our human being.  No, Race is a trap.