The Mask

My mother told me I was beautiful with it on
A porcelain sculpture half green with promise half blue with expectation
A look of strength and weariness etched into its surface overflowing with defiantly straight and long black hair
And I swore to never take it off
With it, I was the closest to perfection I could be
Not quite there because only true artists can bring their imaginations alive
And I was my mother's first child
Her first artistic try
In her womb, she made sure to eat the fruits of disappointment
So obligation would flow through her bloodstream
To me
This made my mask unbreakable
She didn't have to tell me that I came from a long line of mask-wearers
I saw it with my own eyes
At holiday gatherings, aunts, uncles and cousins spoke the language of prisoners
And ceremoniously passed down the familial iron mask like sweet potato pies at the dinner table
I took my piece gladly
At home, I'd bump
"M to the A to the S to the K
Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day"
Not realizin' that Wyclef had Lauryn singing her own identity death sentence
I took on as a mantra
Until I learned that words are more powerful than parental hand me downs
With a shout of "I am beautiful"
My mask began to crack and peel like hard-boiled egg shells
Who I really was wasn't for whispers
I walked around intrigued by the little piece of chin and mouth
Peeking out like Phantom of the Opera
A bulk of the porcelain had stayed
But the energy of my self-esteem
Made the forehead and cheek pieces fall, too, cause
Who I was wasn't for hiding
The final piece
A duplicate of flimsy cereal box 3D glasses
Disintegrated when I set aside my fear and agreed to live in reality
And it felt good to free my face
Let my cheeks feel air because after 22 years
That porcelain suffocated so much that even my pores breathed sighs of relief
Opened my eyes wide enough that I could see my reflection in my pupils
I liked me
mocha brown skin golden with ancestry eyes bright with enlightenment
A smile that beamed confidence, love and strength topped with kinky, nappy hair
And nothing
Not even the look of disgust and disappointment on my mother's face could dampen my elated spirit
She was ashamed
For the first time, my mom told me I was ugly
Because the twinkle in my eyes had rainbow-colored tints and she
Couldn't handle it
"Without your mask, I don't know you"
The irony is Mom,
Without my mask, I don't know you either