he called me a banana
yellow on the outside
white on the inside

I asked him what he meant.

he corrected his jest to coconut
brown on the outside
white on the inside
and hairy
like my arms covered in fine wisps

how could one
raised by an ocean
on an island full of people like me
skin of rich earth like me
hair of timeless night like me
utter a baring insult
with an unflinching ease?

he
whose colors changed in the sun
who burned under its incessant rays
dared to claim that
I am too foreign for my sacred body
or
I would be more palatable if adorned with different skin

in either case
you laughed
familiar with this shameless whiteness

I weaponized my silence
and stared until you both felt shame

Then I asked him to explain.

more stunning than his stuttering
more remarkable than my restraint
is the deafening roar
of your quiet complicity