The Colours We Are

It starts when we are little,

As red or green,

As wrong and right,

White or black,

Good and bad

Blue or pink,

Male and female

The colours they teach us,

So distinct

With boundaries

And those colours must go back to the colour box

In their respective places

And we grow up thinking the same.

Until one day when all these are paints on a palette,

And as we fill our blank canvas with them,

They trickle and splat,

Mingle and form,

A colour from two

And then from somewhere atop a drop of yellow races down and falls into this new colour,

A distinct glow to its periphery.

The more we paint,

Like a life being lived

The more colours on the palette,

Uniform at places,

Standing out at the rest.

And when you are done,

You are red and green,

Black and white,

Blue and pink,

And yellow,

And purple,

And orange

And many more,

Like your identity,

A mixture of right and wrong,

Good and bad,

Male or female or neither or more,

Culture and religion,

Backgrounds and experiences,

Opinions and morals,

And much more.

Intersectionality,

Different from perspectives,

Messy to some,

Beautiful to another,

But unique to

You.