For most of my life, I’ve struggled with the way I look. I remember sitting in my parent’s bedroom as a child, on their bed, crying and asking, begging God to do a miracle and make my skin lighter.
When I woke up the next morning and looked in the mirror I was angry, sad and irritated. God knew the pain I experienced because of my chocolate, melanin-rich, sun-kissed skin. He made me this way and saw the way people teased me, called me ugly and how awkward I felt. He made me this way and He refused to change it.
I didn’t understand it and I refused to accept it. I grew up in a predominately white neighborhood, and at the time there were only one or two Black families around (including mine). Continue reading
My need, want and expectation for perfection almost led me to abandon starting this blog.
If things aren’t perfect, or if I don’t know for sure that they’ll be “right” or successful, then I won’t do it, or I’ll procrastinate until the very last minute, when I have no choice but to do it.
I can get away with this for a freelance assignment because I have a deadline, but with a blog, no one is telling me that my posts are due by a certain date or time; either I write and post or I don’t. It’s all up to me.
To get over perfection, I had to make the decision to live the mantra “Get comfortable being uncomfortable”. I had to let go of the ideal of perfection and hold on to the ideal of progress, of working towards creating and becoming my best. Continue reading
Because I’m Black
My life has no value
My melanin rich skin you can’t handle
So you put yourself up on a pedestal
Make my God white as snow
Eyes like the bright blue sky
Where does the truth lie?
Because I’m Black
You say that beauty is not within me
My curves, my kinks, my nose, my lips
My reflection in the mirror is amiss