Growing up in the inner city, I lived in a single parent household with my mother. In my lifetime I met the man said to be my father one time. I yearned for security, a sense of knowing where I belonged or whom I belonged to. But having “no daddy” around wasn’t something that I thought really bothered me at the time. Unfortunately, I was a black child among many growing up in single parent households. This was normal for me and every other kid I knew. However, my skin complexion, now that was a problem.
I was pretty much the only dark-skinned person in my family. Being teased at school and at family gatherings was a norm. Let’s see there was, burnt toast, crispy critter, and oh, my fave chocolate chip cookie. I suppose these names were in some way a reflection of how unattractive dark skin was, well accept the cookie. Everyone liked chocolate chip cookies, I grew to like being called this one because it seemed least harsh than the others. But all of them hurt my feelings. As a little girl I though, Why did people love to eat chocolate but think the color of it was ugly on my skin. I was the only person in the world who didn’t eat chocolate. I hated it. I never told anyone why. I thought they could never understand. But when I looked in the mirror, I thought I was pretty. The light was on and of course that made my skin appear to be light brown. I thought “I wish all the kids were in the bathroom with me right now and could see me”. In the summer before my tenth grade year, I remember taking my mom’s “Gold Medal” catalog and seeing advertisements for skin brightners. They had something called “Hydroquinone” in them that was supposed to lighten your skin. Well, I decided to use my summer job money and buy a jar. I imagined Wayne (my 1oth and 11th and 12th grade crush) seeing me the first day of school and just all up on me. “No more teasing, this will be my year”, so I thought.
Two weeks of daydreaming went by and the package finally arrived. I half read the jar “apply to face twice a day, do not sit in the sun” (huh?). I put that stuff on my face, and after a few minutes, noticed a throbbing sensation, like I had a headache all over my face, a face-ache. I rubbed it off. The next I just had to try it again, it hurt. I think it took me about a week until I finally gave up. I never wore it again. I was so disappointed and thought about all the teasing I would still have to endure, no dates and everyone thinking I was ugly just because my skin is dark.
As time went by and music artist such as Lauryn Hill started becoming popular, it seemed as if dark skin did too. All of the sudden every time I turned on a music video there was a chocolate girl in the video. When I saw Maxwell’s “Fortunate” video, I thought the darkskinned girl in the video was gorgeous. Society began to be a little more accepting in the music industry but I still lived in the hood, the real world. Although seeing more girls that looked like me on tv gave me a little more self acceptance, I still yearned for the acceptance and approval from others.
My favorite verse, actually the only verse I knew when I was a teen was “I sought the Lord, He heard me and delivered me from all my fears” -Psalm34:4. I remember repeating this to myself often. I knew there was someone watching over me, but didn’t understand who it was. As I grew older and went off to the military, I had darkskinned friends, but then found myself comparing the hues of our skin. I was the darkest, and in different ways people never let me forget it. I wasn’t dark with a reddish hue and soft curly baby hair like my one friend. The Chile from TLC look was in, baby hair was everything. So now it was okay to be kind of dark but better if you look mixed with another race, exotic was anything mid with black, but not “just” black.
When I left the military I went to college. This was weirdly my first experience being around several black cultures. There were a lot of students from Africa, and they were proud of their heritage. They didn’t fit the mold of the dark babies with distended bellies and flies in their faces that appeared often on American TV when I was a little girl. These girls I saw were beautiful. All the stereotypes I knew were defeated once I met them. Most people thought that I too was from Africa. I began getting more compliments about my skin, how smooth and pretty it was. It was hard for me to be accepting of the compliments, after I’d been so used to hearing the opposite.
Over the years since then I have grown to love my dark skin. It is what makes me stand out and unique. My skin complexion matches my nose, eyes, lips, the perfect fit. I went to Jamaica a few years ago. I had a sew in weave as a protective style and the locals thought it was my hair and that I was black and Indian. I laughed and said “no I’m black”. There were many dark-skinned people where I was and they loved and embraced their skin, which was great especially in a place where skin lighters is a million dollar business. The small town I visited loved their skin and mines too. I wondered what would life had been like for me if I grew up there as a child. Would I have had more confidence growing up? Would I have been teased? I don’t know. What I do know now is He knew everything about me when He created me in my mothers womb. He uniquely designed me with His own two hands. (Psalm 139). He is an intentional God and I believe He wants me to use my story to encourage other women and young girls dark-skinned or not.
Am I fully healed? “no”. I constantly rely on Him for strength. I need to be reminded daily that “I am honored and precious in His sight and He loves me (Isaiah 43:4). It’s amazing how words from years ago can still hold you hostage if you don’t continuously seek the Lord in getting the key to set you free. I used to hold my head down, and when a guy looked my way, I’d look away, or get that attitudinal look “don’t be lookin’ at me, no time for your mess” face. I realized this was out of insecurity. I didn’t understand what they were looking at or why they were looking at me. You see those comments from long ago were still haunting me keeping me hostage. A beautiful butterfly acted as if she was still a slimy ugly caterpillar. I can easily put up a front with clothes and makeup (see my “Perfectly Blemished” blog) but it doesn’t work, not for long. My total confidence will come from the Lord. There is so many things He has shown me about myself, about not growing up with my dad and looking for security in relationships. I had been yearning for comfort in men and thoughts of others, I breathed and lived for them. The Lord has shown me He can mend my heart and make all things new as I come to Him in all repentance and humility, realizing my total need and dependence on Him. (The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit. You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God. Psalm 51:17) As I take steps now towards gaining a closer relationship with Him, He is where my true beauty lies, not opinions from guys, family or friends. And so, if you ever meet me in person, don’t be afraid since I wrote all of this to give me a compliment if you’d like, just know, this girl right here is resting her beliefs of herself in the one and only maker of us all Jesus Christ regardless.
Breakfast Chatter?
What was something you were teased about as a child?
How has God delivered you from the thoughts of others?
