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ladimelanina · 7 years

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There's Hurt and Pain Around My Beautiful Dark Skin

God told me to write this. She said, “You’re entering the next stage in your life and you won’t be able to bring this shit with you. You have important work to do and this baggage will only continue to hold you back from your purpose.”

To those I’m speaking of: I’m not sorry if the way I remember your behavior offends you. These are my memories and my truth from my perspective. If I’m fucked up, broken and dysfunctional it’s because of you, but I allowed it. And being aware of that, it is now on me to change it - to heal it.

Be aware of the internal, psychological, spiritual, and emotional damage you may be causing someone. It’s way more than “kids having harmless fun.” Don’t teach your kids that stupid shit. #sorrynotsorry

All I ever hear these days is how beautiful and rich my complexion is. It was odd to me at first, especially coming from Black people. White people and foreigners have always found me beautiful but with my people, it was like NOW they wanted to be around me BECAUSE of my dark skin when, before college, it had basically been a “black people repellent”. I was in the twilight zone so I couldn’t always tell if they were fucking with me, complimenting me so they could get something out of me or if they were actually sincere. I’ve experienced a little bit of each. I still struggle with being able to tell the difference today because some people get off on being nasty to others for no reason. I have plenty of experience with those types.

Looking back on the first time I became aware that my looks were undesirable to the people in my own community makes me sad for us due to the intense brainwashing into self-hate that we have endured. I was 5 or 6 when an adult, at least 30 to 40 years my senior, said something negative to me about my complexion, all because my front tire accidentally entered her yard as I was falling off my bike. I forever saw her as an evil bitch after that and did my best to avoid her and her evil daughter who is another story altogether. But we lived on opposite ends of the same 4-house unit in the projects where I grew up, so it wasn’t an easy task. What kind of mentality does a person have who would call a 5 year old out of their name instead of helping a little girl who fell off her bike? If my adult self could go back in time, there’s no telling the words I would have with her but also the positive vibes I would instill in that little girl so that she’d be prepared and unbothered by the host of negative encounters to come.

I always loved my family but I hated those overnight trips to visit my grandma’s sister. The colorism was real over there and I was always isolated. The cousins in my age group wouldn’t touch me with a 10-foot pole so I just spent those days sitting alone, watching them play and take time out of play to laugh at me. Nobody ever stopped it as far as I can remember. The last time I saw my great aunt before she passed, she said, “You turned out prettier than I would have thought.” I was stunned and I wasn’t gonna talk back to an old woman so I just thought, “Wow! You actually thought of me as an ugly child and didn’t think there would be any hope for me to one day be a beautiful woman because I’m dark.”

I learned early on that nobody had my back and everyone, including family, had the potential to hurt me. (Naturally, I have trust issues.) I have a great uncle, to this day, that never really asks me how I’m doing or takes much interests in what’s going on in my life but when my lighter-skinned family members come around, he hangs on their every word and action.

The day I knew I was really alone was when I was at my aunt’s house. It was just my cousin, who I consider my brother because we were both raised by our Grandma, and my aunt’s god daughter who was kinda my friend but wasn’t as much a friend to me as I had been to her. I’ve heard so many insults over the years that I’m not even sure what he said - blackie, purple, burnt, crispy, stay out of the sun - just pick one. But it sparked a fit of rage where I lost control of myself and proceeded to beat him into every room on the top floor, crying and screaming hysterically while he laughed and she looked on giggling here and there. It was one of the worst hurts because I thought I could at least depend on him to stand up for me but there were times when he would join in on the ridicule and I’d just be forced to wander off and cry alone. From that day, I would subconsciously embark on a life of not drawing attention to myself. Being sure to keep myself in the background and in the shadows of whatever was going on around me.

I didn’t go to school dances and other events. I didn’t go to my high school prom. I don’t even think I had a birthday party beyond the age of 10. In the 10th grade I would wander around the military base (yea, I’m a former army brat) at lunch time with my discman and go into stores and look at magazines and books because I didn’t have any friends to eat lunch with. I avoided wearing bright colors like yellow, pink and orange because it emphasized my darkness even more. No matter how girly I really wanted to be, I dressed like a boy until I was about 19. I guess it seemed like a pretty good disguise at the time.

Along the way, I learned that insults from boys were usually a one and done situation but the girls, even the ones who claimed to be my friends or hang out with me when no one else was available, would constantly pick at me as if trying to break me down little by little everyday. My “friends” would do it in front of people they were trying to impress. In middle school, my homeroom teacher asked us to bring in old pictures of ourselves to share with the class. As my kindergarten picture (above) got passed around, one girl stopped everything by saying, “Who is this? She’s cute but damn, she black!” If I could slap the shit out of her today I would. I was scared to even try to make friends with other black girls. I got to a point where I just assumed that every time one of them laughed or whispered they were talking about me. That paranoia still haunts me. I easily made friends with boys but any girl that I was friends with was one who approached me first. I really don’t even know how to make friends because I’ve always stayed in my box until I was approached. Any best friends I had in the different states and countries I lived in was usually more like an ONLY friend.

I’m more introspective and reflective than quick witted so I never really knew how to stand up for myself, which is one of my only regrets. My comebacks always came hours or days later when I was alone in thought, in the shower or listening to music. I would beat myself up about not responding then promise myself that next time I would say something and be quick about it. There’s only one instance I can remember where I actually said something. The details are fuzzy, but just the feeling of saying something as simple as “shut yo ugly, bitch-ass up” was soooooo worth it! No one was expecting that because I was known for being quiet and shy and I usually just walked away with my head down. Everybody laughed at him and it felt good. I wish I’d done it more often but it is what it is.

One thing that kinda kept me sane, but still dysfunctional in my isolation and loneliness, was the fact that although no one ever told me, I never thought I was ugly. I always had this theory that I was actually pretty but no one could see it because they were distracted by my skin. In fact I knew I was cute, I was a dark skinned version of my mom and people are always talking about how pretty she is and how I am her spitting image. I have beautiful aunts and handsome uncles that all resemble each other so it was impossible that I was ugly. And my dad, although I never knew him and his family well, my grandma always said he was very handsome. Sometimes before my mom got home from work I would slather on her foundation to change me to her brown complexion for a few minutes and look in the mirror. I didn’t wish I was light skinned but if I could’ve changed it, I would’ve chosen her brown over my black.

I was told by a family member to be sure to marry a lighter skinned man when I grow up so that my children won’t have to go through the same thing I did. I need y’all to see me shine now because no child should have to go through any of that. Wishing they were lighter and having to activate dysfunctional defense mechanisms to get through each day. Allow children to be their unique selves and be proud of it. As I said before it was a grown-ass woman who took the first stab at me, a child; and her daughter inherited her mean nasty attitude. You, the adult, need to change so that your kids don’t model your sickness. Yes, it’s sick and kids only do what they see you doing. As far as I’m concerned I was ridiculed by the children of a lot of sick adults who are now adults themselves and probably teaching the same level of dysfunctional behavior to the next generation. STOP IT! Heed your grandma’s age old advice - If you ain’t got nothin nice to say, keep you damn mouth shut.

It’s been a rough road for me emotionally but if I hadn’t had to build myself up from the very bottom of self-esteem, worth and confidence I might have turned out to be a conceited little asshole that believed that I had to put others down in order to assert my own self-worth. I’m multi-talented, I’m nice to everyone I meet, I’m interested in the uniqueness of others, and it may be cliche but I care about making the world a better place. I’m proud of the person I’ve become thus far and I’m still learning and growing. This is just the beginning.

Although this really is only the half, a gigantic weight has been lifted from my soul. I think I can move on now.

Thanks for reading!

#deeplymelanated #lifestyleart #darkskin #therapy #melaninpoppin #selfesteem #ladimelanina #woman #women #queen #goddess #pain #childhood #colorism #black #buyblack #blackwallstreet

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