She wears
Abercrombie Sweaters
Old Navy and Gap Jeans
Brown loafers cover her feet
Wooden beads around her neck
Hair wrapped up in a bun
Never been to a "ghetto"
No idea what "gangsta" is
Never heard gunshots
Unless her granpa was watching old westerns
She never used the word nigga
Never called herself black
She never struggled through real poverty
And never had to fight in school
To make a name for herself
Never been cut by another girl 
With a razor waiting under her tongue
Never been jumped on the way home
Never Rode the school bus with the "regulars"
Always took carpools with Sara and Amy 
She was unaware of Angela Davis, Assata Shakur, Tupac too
Preferred George Bush to George Washington Carver
She was ignorant to her background
And felt she did not belong
to a culture that
Sagged their pants below the waist
Wore weaves every color of the under the sun
Raced down the street blasting hip hop tunes
and dodging red neck cops
She hung her head in embarrassment
When she saw dreads and metallic grills
she was shell
chocolate skin and green eyes
What the other black girls considered "good hair"
She was black girl
But she was lost
In an identity crisis