Outside Myself, Within Myself

 

Outside Myself, Within Myself

By Tatjana Rebelle

 

I am continually an outsider in my own world.

All the pieces of myself fighting for attention.

Every aspect of my being grasping for acceptance.

Constantly struggling outside myself, within myself, to be seen as a whole.

Every news article of oppression linked to some integral part of my soul.

Because I am a bisexual, biracial, binational woman.

 

My sexuality now on everyone’s tongues because the genitalia of my former partner didn’t match their norms and no one gives a shit about the word bi when you’re dating another sex.

My family disowning me for being in love.

My own government trying to criminalize my then partner because their presumed identity didn’t match their assigned gender.

Wanting nothing more then to have kissed them on the streets without wondering who would want to hurt us.

Wanting nothing more then to find a place we could have gotten married without the fear of being denied a space because someone’s “God” condemns us.

Being faced with the notion of GOD, questioning her existence simply because of someone else’s hatred.

Constantly struggling outside myself, within myself, to be seen as a whole.

biracial… binational… bisexual

 

My father’s only trace is within my skin.

The skin that links me to a history entrenched with pain, prejudice and survival.

My mother’s white skin and German accent the link to the only family I’ve know and too was carried across an ocean.

Wanting nothing more then to just be myself but I’m constantly reminded that I am too black for some and too white for others.

Wanting to be accepted as mixed but fully aware, I live in a place that doesn’t give a shit about bloodline.

Finally, facing the notion that the only thing that matters is what they can categorizes you as.

Finally, coming face to face with the notion that in the past I’d be that house nigga accepted by no one… feeling like the modern day equivalent when I step into my job.

Constantly struggling outside myself, within myself to be seen as a whole.

binational… bisexual… biracial

 

My soul is yearning for a connection with my elders but I am separated by language on one side and the misdeeds of my father on the other.

My history speaks of slaves on plantations killed by separatists and soldiers killed by Nazi’s during the war.

Wanting to feel accepted as an American but being first generation means, the walls of my childhood were held together by German values.

Wanting to find my place amongst my ancestors but fear my story will get lost amongst the tales of mixed breeds untold by both sides.

Finally, coming face to face with the fact that I’m a litmus test for everyone’s racists ideologies, because rarely has anyone opened themselves up to realizing black people can actually be born in Germany.

Constantly struggling outside myself, within myself, to be seen as a whole.

bisexual… biracial… binational

 

Then breathing and taking a step back to acknowledge my struggles and my differences.

Realizing that no one feels accepted.

Everyone is looking for connection.

Accepting that these are all the pieces that make my story my own.

The things that I thought separated me- unites me to everyone.

Black. White. Straight. Gay. American. Immigrant.

Biracial. Bisexual. Binational.

 

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