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When I was young, 
My mum bought me a black barbie doll,
I wanted a white one,
I cried and tried,
to convince her to buy me a white one,
 all in vain.
she gave me no reason,
and it remained like that.

 

I never used to take care of Barbie,
Never used to comb her hair,
 Or dress her up,
 until one day,
When I looked at her skin,
it was like mine,
her hair,
it was like mine,
 she was beautiful,
she was like me,
black in all aspects,
she had brown eyes,
red lips and was curvacious too,
 I realised how beautiful she was 
and named her BEEBEE,

 

I started dressing her up,
combing her hair,
and marvelling at her beautiful black skin,
I once heard that,
The darker the berry,
the sweeter is is,
I kept her away from too much sun,
too much rain,
I took care of her,
I was so afraid,
She would start fading 
and become white or light brown,
she would no longer be beautiful,
she would lose her originality,
she looked so like me,
but I was prettier
my skin was darker,
more rich,
more beautiful.



If she could hear,
I wanted to boast,
of how I was more curvacious,
My skin was much richer,
 my eyes were bright brown,
I wanted to boast how,
I can work most night and day,
Multitask and still find time to play,
I wanted to boast of how
 I can speak my mother toungue
I can sing and dance,
I can dream and accomplish.
I wanted to boast aboutall this,
but she couldnt hear,
she was just but a plastic doll,
A beautiful black plastic barbie doll,
Her name was BEEBEE


I'm grown now,
I'm woman now,
I see now,
What mama tried to teach me in silence,
Why she refused to buy me,
the white barbie,
it taught me much,
am so in-love with myself now,
because I related with BEEBEE back then,
learnt my worth,
realised my beauty,
inside and outside,
I bet they were talking about me when they said,
the darker the berry,
the sweeter it is.
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