They tried to tell me that Black isn’t beautiful. Tried to make me believe it was true. They taught me that everything was better in a lighter hue. That this was how things were meant to be, just how they should stay. They told me there was no past and the one that was, misconstrued. Constructed a story and kept up the lie, which then created my life. Said I shouldn’t look up so my mind would stay down, don’t ask questions and don’t look around. Bad and unfit. Meant to be nothing but less, but much more than that. This is what they told me to be true. This is what they told me about you.