SometimesSometimes
I want to be white.
White—
like new snow
or angel wings.
White—
like fresh milk
or cumulous clouds.
White—
like just-washed sheets
dancing on the clothesline.
White—
a full moon
on a clear night.
Fred“That’s dumb.”
My big brother, Fred,
laughs at me.
“Nobody’s that white,
except maybe Dracula.
You wouldn’t use a white crayon
to color a white person
in a coloring book,
would you?”
“No.
So why are they called white?
Why not beige or peach?”
Fred shakes his head.
“Don’t know.
They just are.
So why do you want
to be white?”
“I said
sometimes.”
“Okay, okay,
why do you want to be white
sometimes?”
“Mama says
I might have to do better
than the smartest white person.
She says
I have to study harder.
I have to shine brighter.
It’s not fair.”
Fred shrugs.
“She tells me that, too.
I think she just wants us
to do our best.
But, girl,
you need to grow up.
Life isn’t fair.
Who said it was?
And you better not
let Ma and Pop hear you
talking about wanting to be white.”
Mama says
it’s sinful
to want to be something you’re not.
Well, I don’t always,
and I do want to shine,
but sometimes,
sometimes,
I just want to be
white.
CooperFred’s real name is Fredrick.
He was named after Grampa Dale,
Daddy’s dad.
Pap Cooper wanted
to name me James,
after him.
But I was born a girl,
so they gave me Pap’s last name:
Cooper.
Pap says
he likes that even better.
I love my name.
Nobody else I know
has it.
I love my name.
I love my pap.
And I know
Pap loves me, too.
He loves me
just the way I am.
So I would never tell him
that, sometimes,
I want to be white.
White—
Like
the
kids
at
school.
The Queen of Darkness
All the kids call
Mrs. Keating
the Queen of Darkness.
Just my luck
to be in fifth grade this year
and get the meanest teacher
in the school.
Dag!Kids say
she’ll whack your hand
with a ruler
if you make her mad,
even if you didn’t mean to.
If I can really shine,
maybe they’ll let me skip
the fifth grade
and go straight on to sixth
where I’d have Mrs. Hibbs,
the Queen of Lightness,
the Queen of Niceness.
If only I could shine.
MaxineSometimes
I wish I was my sister.
Maxine is so pretty
(everybody says so)
and she can wear white pants
and not get them dirty.
She’s a wonder.
She taught me
to read
and write
and add
and subtract
before I even started school.
She used to make a plate
with apple slices
or peanut butter crackers
to put beside our bed.
I would have my snack
while Mama sat
on the top step and read
us Uncle Wiggily stories
or Daddy told us
poems he knows by heart.
Maxine would make sure
I didn’t forget
to brush my teeth
again
before we went to sleep.
She’s fourteen now.
She’s still nice,
but she doesn’t play with me
as much
since she’s a teenager.
When Fred became one,
it was the same.
I don’t want to be a teenager
if it means
I won’t want to play
anymore.
Maybe I should be like Peter Pan
and never grow up.
Copyright © 2025 by Vaunda Micheaux Nelson. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
