Mistaken Identity

As I walked down the street and man approached me
Pardon mi Senorita.
In Spanish: Can you help me find this address?

"Huh?! What did you say?"
...cause something was amiss
Oh! Forgive me Miss. I thought you were Cuban or maybe Puerto Rican."
he said in broken english.
Forgive me, por favor."
I smiled and said, "Oh! Thank you, but no.
I'm African-American. I'm Black.
It's okay though. It's happened before."

Before, it was Mistaken Identity

Had me researching my black history
In search of brown skinned foreign countries
Studied the impact of blacks in cultured societies
impressed and admired your beauty

It was Mistaken Identity

You inspired me to
take pride in my own heritage
The resemblance of my birthright
In your rituals, skin tone, and language

It was Mistaken Identity.

I took pride in learning to speak Swahili
Arabic, Hebrew the language of our Father
But I don't think you feel me
Self-pride passion and all self-taught
Learning to cook some Moroccan food

But it was Mistaken Identity

Yet, when I spoke to another and said,
"Oh Dayum! I thought you were Black."
He flinched.
"Hell NO! I ain't Black!" he threw back.
I said, "I'm sorry. I mistook you for someone I knew"

Thought: Yeah, my Ancestors and Me.