Dear Me,
I remember looking in the mirror in my mom's room one day after school. I was smoothing down my curly stiff hair and fixing my pressed white uniform top. Everything about my appearance was neat, tidy, and presentable, yet I could not stop staring in the mirror like something wrong with me. After more long minutes of staring at my own reflection, I suddenly realized why I could not see myself the way I always imagined. I was dark-skinned and a deep part of me wished I was light. I was only nine years old.
After watching a documentary exploring the deep seated biases about skin color, particularly dark skin, I was haunted with my own past emotions, thoughts, and experiences about being dark chocolate toned. "You are pretty for a dark-skinned girl,"and "I don't usually talk to dark-skinned girls, but you can be an exception," they would whisper in my ears. Had it not been for my dark color, some of the men I attracted would have approached me with ease and even with further more honorable intentions. I was not so disrespected by all men in my past. Many of them fell in love with me, skin tone, personality, character, and all. Most were not repelled by the color of my skin. They saw past my skin tone and saw who I was. I did the same. But could I say that these men did this because they liked dark-skinned girls to begin? Only the afflicted thoughts of a dark-skinned woman would led her to believe it.
Regardless of whether I was being found attractive or not, growing up into my adolescence, I still struggled with my perception of beauty within. I was always aware of how many light-skinned and dark-skinned girls were in the room at a time. I sometimes felt not as pretty than the light-skinned girl next to me. I was scared of getting darker by the sun in the summertime. I secretly was offended when my friends would say they were lighter than me.
But after a while, I started getting angry. It wasn't fair that most of the black community would prefer a light-skinned "shawty" over a darker one. It was vicious that way we are racist against our own people. Surprisingly, black jokes are made by other blacks and when in argument, one the first combats made is related to the darkness of the skin. Dark-skinned girls are made to feel ugly, convenient, and optional. They are made to feel oppressed by the dark color of their skin. Pass one by walking down the street without so much of a second glance back. Preferences, they would call it. Prejudice, I would say. These destructive attitudes still live among us.
A good friend recently told me that the only thing that matters is all the makeup inside of me. I have been told that all my life and have always believed it. However, when that explanation came out of his mouth, it made perfect sense in the brighter light. It was not what he said or when he said it, but it was how the words flowed. I realized that although this long drawn controversy upsets me and leaves me often times feeling helpless, it does not take away from who I really am. I will also remain me regardless of whether or not people appreciate my skin tone. As a dark-skinned girl, I not only embrace my beauty but I embrace how my beauty does not determine who I am. I will still continue to be the reflective, intuitive, nurturing, and idealistic woman I have grown to become. The color war does not define me and will no longer have an affect on my life.
Love,
Stephanie
Courtesy of voxefx
Courtesy of voxefx
