Whose skin am I in?

What is this?
I don’t recognize it.
This color is a miss.
What am I?
Why do I blend in with the night?

What can’t I look like dem odda folk?
Dem set hu blend in wit da stars?
I wan blend in da sun
Not get bun up by it dred. 

My skin does not always get featured in magazines 
Maybe if my eyes were green
Only a select few got pictured
But they’re always made lighter.

Why I can’t be conchy Joe dawg?
Why I can’t look like da niggas who get all da corn?
I wan live like I from abroad.
I wan live like the white people dem. 

I sit and I observe.
I listen and acquire.
I ask do I deserve?
I sit back and admire. 
They that have no desire.
To fight for anything they have to earn. 
Can I not be like them?
Why must I be different? 

My skin is light brown.
I have no desire to be darker.
My skin comes with a crown.
Other people’s opinions don’t matter.
Perceptions about being lighter come often.
Suppressing your own feelings of being dark.
Is being proud of being lighter a crime?
Should we have to pretend a lie?

What do they see when they see our skin?
Do they see fear?
Do they see a threat?
Do they see something they can laugh at?
Are they angry?
Are they jealous?
By what virtue are we measured?