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12.12.2018, Jamal Tuschick

Adjoa schreibt in ihrem Gedicht über die Liebe zur weißen Mutter, aber auch über die Suche nach der eigenen Identität abseits eines weißen Umfelds.

Light Skin My Mother’s Heritage

Besides her strength and her power

Her gift I got at birth
a backpack full of white history shit
Thinking I don’t have to deal with it
Cause father is the one that gave me color
The oppressor and the oppressed in one
Cultural significance embodied
Still too much pain for a person to carry

Light skin my mother’s heritage

Which I sometimes wanted less and other times wanted more
Self degrading myself for the color I have
Forgetting it’s a gift
Mind and soul having issues with that
Now I can say at least I don’t want to kill myself no more 

Light skin my mother’s heritage
Is leaving me thinking
Which is giving me suicidal thoughts
Which is nothing a mother is supposed to give
Though she gives me a house
But still leaving me homeless in my motherland

And my mother, my goddess I love you so much, white mother
You gave me a house but never a home but it’s not your fault
But it’s my pain
I’m not you
You’re not me
Mother don’t leave me homeless
Provide me a home even
Even if it might not be by your side
Because I’m next to you
But I’m not me
Just a body without a soul
Not filled up with any identity
So my white mother
Let me repeat I love you
But there is no me
No self-consciousness of what it means to not have your skin
No knowledge of the history my ancestors have been through
Don’t even know the meaning of my name
No way I can stay
My mental health decays
Cause staying with you
Means never knowing who I am

Das Gedicht erschien zuerst auf Young Migrants - Perspektiven für eine Gesellschaft der Vielen.

 

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