If I am not a Black Mother

and I am not a mother to white children

does that make me grey?


Or would a Grey Mommy

connote a mother of a certain age range

that I may be approaching

in strands, but am not there yet.


A Mocha Mommy is a support group

for stay at home mothers of color

so that does not describe me either,

though it certainly describes an aspiration

to be at home all day and write about

the mocha mom in me.


Chameleon Mom

might be closer to the truth

with all the colors I wear

navigating from here-our blended family home

Out into the so-much-to-explain in the world out there.


Explain to the educator how

a mother

of a child of color surrounded in a room

of white teachers

may not feel as at ease

understood

or seen

as the well intentioned

intentional gathering might think

she should.


Explain to the manager of the grocery store

that although he may offer me

a hundred hair care options

it is my children's hair for whom I inquire.

Handing him the bottle of Mixed Chicks Shampoo

I tell him that I would appreciate it if this product

could be carried too.

And not on an end cap, I add.

End cap feels like an afterthought to me- wouldn't you agree?


Explain the heaviness in my breath

as my morning feet slide

into the soft green slippers

with the semi mushed pom-poms.

That I have been turned inside out

from the birth of my first born son

grabbed up and into my arms

in a hospital in North Carolina

as I sat precariously on the edge of her bed

on the edge of instant motherhood

on the edge of other motherhood

on the edge of our son's thirty-six hour life


and shed.


My understanding

or lack there of.


Being a mother of any

color.