colorism - Shay Patrick

So I starved the boy right out of me to fit into smaller jeans made for preteens with no hips. And my family telling me ‘Don’t give us any lip. Nice girls don’t argue and offer no quips.’ And the insecurities took root inside of me growing tendrils long and mean that infected my mind with tired dreams of beauty. For years I let them grow I tended them through rain, through snow. And let women whose ribs showed through their skin whose lips protruded from cheeks sunken in convince me of their beauty. How was I to know that those women and my mother were wrong until the day that I left home while my mother and the TV and the magazines kept telling me ‘You would be so pretty if only…’

Tar’s Fans

by Nevelious Jordan

I used to be a movie star But unless you’re a sick pervert, you probably won’t know what kind they are I can remember back far when I performed under the name “Tar” That’s the name they gave me because I was the only little black boy It started with a bald white man asking if I wanted a new toy For any 8-year old, that’s one hell of a decoy I was my parents pride and joy So I sometimes wonder if what happened to me, hurt them more than myself Fourteen years have passed and the memories still jerk me back like whiplash Wall to wall kids in a damp, cramped cellar The abducted Barely able to write complete sentences yet nude photos of us are being snapped Just before we step in front of the camcorder To make innocence-breaking filth to be shipped along the US to Europe and across the border Child hoarder That’s what they called the bald man The bastards he used us to entertain Flashbacks stain my brain I recall the pain of adults dirtying me before washing it away with golden rain Their sweaty hands touched me everywhere, although I begged them to refrain My tears…our tears…were in vain They even made us touch each other Grade schoolers fondling one another’s undeveloped bodies While these men and women called us “hotties” Wishing they were the ones who took us to potties We were forced to dress up sometimes For boys, khakis and plaid shirts For girls, sweaters and checkered skirts I guess the attire was part of the fantasy’s appeal It gave us a real elementary school feel Each time we were raped, it was taped