Happy Monday all!
Growing up others made me acutely aware of my dark skin. If I had a dime for each time I was told I was “pretty for a dark skin girl” I would be richer than Warren Buffet. Unfortunately colorism in the black community is one of the lingering effects of centuries of enslavement. While others saw my skin as some kind deterrent, I never grew up feeling that way. Being black was hard enough so worrying about how light or dark I was the least of my concerns. As I got older I relished being in my dark skin. People would sometimes stare agape when I wouldn’t hide from the sun. I’d laugh when people would ask me if I was afraid of getting “too dark” during the Summer. Years ago when I returned to work from vacationing in Mexico, my co-worker said “Damn Georgette, you got dark!” and I responded “I know right! I love it!” After I said that she gave me this weird look like I should be ashamed of my sun kissed skin. I guess this shocked her because unfortunately our society has deemed dark skin as ugly and not “classically beautiful”. Luckily for me my parents wouldn’t allow that kind of self hate. My mom would constantly remind me that being dark skinned was a good thing and that I shouldn’t allow anyone to tell me different. Because of their insistence, I didn’t grow up having issues with my blackness. I love being black. I marvel how rich my skin looks when it’s darkened by the sun. I love wearing colors that compliment and enhance my skin tone. While I still struggle with accepting my fat body, being a black woman is something I will never be ashamed of.
Have a wonderful day!