A Former Immigrant Juvenile's Feelings and Views on Race and Color in America

*(This sonnet more or less summarizes my memories and feelings of growing up in the South in America as a half-white, half-Vietnamese boy raised by an African-American, soldier step-father and a Vietnamese mother during the 1970's era after emigrating from South Vietnam as the Vietnam War still raged on.).


During the '70's, deep in the South,
I was white but raised black by a black man.
As a boy, I have watched the Ku Klux Klan
on the news—and was frightened as a youth
who was “black.” In those times, it was uncouth
and a mark of disgrace to be less than
the child of a white mother and white man:
even back then I felt that racist truth.
Two-score years have passed and I’m still confused,
troubled, and unclear as to what or how
I should be: am I white—or “black” (abused
by my black "dad," I relate to him now—.)?
It’s joyless being me—unhinged like this:
but feeling more black, I hate prejudice.




Sonnet by Ngoc Nguyen The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 784 times
Written on 2018-07-24 at 19:35

Tags Prejudice  Racism  America 

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Racism is the strangest part of human beings. We are all part of one planet, with different shades of skin due to accidents of birth or circumstances. You can be whatever you feel comfortable being. A very touching sonnet.
Ashe
2018-07-25