Mama put a curse on me
When she gave me that name
Attaching history to my skin
When she knew it had stains on it
Though her eyes were green
She acted like her skin was brown
And teleported her daughter back to slavery
What kind of name is Stella anyway?
It don’t hardly go with my skin
And mama’s either.
But she tryna be something she ain’t
And I’m just tryna be something I am
You see, there’s a stigma that comes
With the color of history
Being white
And yet being colored
Race wars always concerned these two groups of people
and there ain’t seemed to be much room for a mulatto
So you see
Mama put a curse on me
When she named me Stella
After my great-grandmother
A slave on Paul Saddlers plantation
And his daughter too
So as to escape slavery
I think I’ll just opt out this race
And considers myself white
Maybe even change my name
And pitch my tent somewhere
Beyond the Colored Line
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