Beyonce.

It was 54 degrees fahrenheit towards the end of February and on this specific night the sudden warmth didn’t go anywhere.

So I walked to you. It’s only eight blocks from Bushwick to Bedstuy but once you cross Broadway, the air alters.

It was close to 1am and I had my restrictions about walking through the park at this time. I called your phone again but got no answer. Was I being replaced at this very moment?

As I crossed the street to get to the block your house occupied, I was stopped by two men in a Toyota.

“YOOOO!” HONK-HONK

I smiled and nodded as my pace quickened a bit.

“YOOOO! C’mere for a second!” One of the men yelled from the car window. They were at least twenty years my senior.

“Have a good night, okay?” I responded. Politely but slightly scared because I was alone and you weren’t just a phone call away - you were a house away. Are you there?

“You acting light-skinned like Beyonce, just c’mere!”

So.

I have to be light-skinned to reject you? I have to be light-skinned because I’d rather be approached in any other way than honked at? I have to be light-skinned because a dark skinned woman isn’t good enough? But of course - dark skinned women are easy and that’s the only reason you decided to pursue me in the first place.

In fact, I’m not Beyonce. I didn’t know that I should Be.

Jade Brown