Thread lightly. It’s a fine line.
Not all see the layers of colour.
What defines my looks?
Let’s go back a few centuries.
History writes of Eurasians or Seranis.
There’s Anglo Indians and Ceylon Burgher.
A colonial reminder of what?
Well, when society dictated us cast outs.
Why claim back what was once denied us.
Even then we were dissected.
Not accepted. Frowned upon.
So, a new label was created.
I rather keep what was labeled on us.
A social taboo of colonial times.
From the Portuguese, Dutch and British.
Enter, the Eurasians.
In today’s world, am I a pie chart?
A quarter and three quarters mixed.
Terms like bi-racial or multi-racial.
Mixed marriages or inter-marriages.
Our blood is red like yours too.
Everything else is different.
I come from mixed clay.
Moulded and crafted in layers.
A piece of pie sweetened.
Or a craving that won’t fill.
The forging of East and West.
A piece of sunrise followed sunset.
I’ll never be of one race.
My looks baffles you.
I’m not of one ingredient.
But I am one of a kind.
Is there a stain to scrub?
No! I come from trail blazers.
They saw beyond colour or culture.
They gave me the world without borders.
By C.E. Pereira