I am a racist.

I know it it's a harsh thing to admit,
But the truth always is.
I am a racist.

And the funny thing about it is I was never aware.
I used to think that if I smiled at them and spoke nicely that the thoughts of my superiority would crawl out of my head.
But I am a racist.

The plunging of blame onto my parents is not my intention,
But Hitler was born a sweet baby.

I didn't know that my parents moved from our old house because of the black people that moved in the neighbourhood.

I never knew why my mom told me to raise the windows and lock the doors whenever we were in a black community or a black person walked past our Range Rover.

I didn't know why my parents rolled their eyes when they spoke of their freedom,
Why they stopped me from being friends with Dora.
My ignorance fooled me into believing it was because of her impecunity,
But my parents were racist.

I suppose the hate derives from envy,
Their hair defies gravity for heaven's sake.

I can't imagine it being as easy to be black as it is to be white.
They can't change the colour of their skin so they grew to love themselves,
I can't change the colour of my skin but I grew to love them.

I am not racist.
I am jealous.