Dear World,

Let me first start by saying I see you. I see you for everything you are. I see the beauty and the warmth and the love you bring to the people who inhabit you. I see every ounce of strength and unity and goodness that you have to offer. But I also see the darkness you have lurking in your midst; the pain and loneliness and cruelty. I know it exists because when I look in the mirror I see it in my reflection like ugly scars left unhealed. Scars from countless days of having whale noises hurled at my face during lunch. Scars from an adolescence riddled with shame over the color of my skin. Scars from constant reminders that because I am a woman I am inherently less than. Scars from years of being told I was too fat to ever be taken seriously as an actor. Scars that no one sees. Scars that are nailed to my heart and run rampant through my veins to ensure I never forget your ceaseless attacks. They force me to remember the pain but they also remind me that I am still here and I am thriving. And as hard as you tried, you did not consume me. You did not break me.

I am battered and I am bruised but I am not broken. I am bold and brilliant and beautiful, despite what you did to me.

To be a human being is a blessing and a curse. We are given an unbearable burden, one we didn’t ask for and one no one really prepares us for; the burden of beauty. How to be it. The authenticity of it. Who has more than others? What your worth is if society says you don’t have enough. A hierarchy put into effect to make sure we know our place in this world. How do you prepare someone for that? How do you explain to a 10-year-old girl why the stores her friends shop in don’t make clothes that fit her? How do you console a 12-year-old girl who gets called a “black traitor” because her mother is white? How do you comfort a 15-year-old girl who is devastated because her teacher told her she’d never be believable as a romantic lead because she’s “too tall, too wide and, frankly, not beautiful enough”? How do you save someone you love from going through these things? The answer is you can’t. And you shouldn’t have to. The world shouldn’t be set up to tear you down the moment you enter it. And for some, it isn’t. But for those of us who don’t fit the conventional standards of beauty, there is no way to spare us from you, a world made to judge us.

For a long time, it felt like ‘fat’ was all I’d ever be known as. People used it to describe me to others. “Which Kailah?” “You know, the fat one.” People used it to ridicule and insult me. “You’re just a gross, fat whale.” They even used it in place of my own name. “Hey fat ass, move out of the way.” It felt like the world was going to accomplish its mission in making me think that me and my body were worthless. But then I started accomplishing goals and finding my passion in theatre and kind of kicking ass in life. And I realized that the thing others used to make me feel inferior, didn’t make them superior. Them calling me fat didn’t stop me from getting better grades than them. Them calling me fat didn’t stop me from getting the Senior Salute speech at graduation. Them calling me fat didn’t stop me from finding someone who loves me. It took years and years to accept the fact that, yes, I have fat but ‘fat’ is not who I am. It is my body, it is not my character or my intelligence or my kindness, and it does not take away from those things either. Of course, I still have times when I feel less than someone just because I happen to weigh more but then I remember a quote from my spirit animal and clap back queen J.K. Rowling where she said, “…Is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’, or ‘cruel’?” You tried to convince me it was the worst thing I could be. You failed.

No matter how far we come, we still have moments of doubt. It’s human nature. I still have moments where I question my identity. Being mixed, people often glamourize and make assumptions about what it must be like to be me. "You’re so lucky, you get the best of both worlds.” “I bet it is so cool having claim to two different cultures.” But the truth is, it’s confusing and the world can be cold and cruel. So many times growing up I was told I had to “pick a side”. Do I identify more with my white side or my black side? Too many times I was told I was not “truly black” or that I, would never really be white. More times than I care to remember I was mocked and called a liar for explaining that my mom was white. The other kids would say I’m adopted and she’s not my real mom because white and black people don’t have kids together. I will never forget the looks me and my mom would get just walking around a store. The hatred emanating off people who knew absolutely nothing about us except that we had two different skin tones. It will be forever ingrained in my memory the moment I was first called “an abomination”. Our world is no stranger to the obsession of “pure races”. We learned about it almost every year in history class but these issues don’t just exist in textbooks. Some of us live it every day. Being constantly berated about my racial identity made me feel so lost and angry. But every time you make me feel alone, I only have to look at my mother’s hand in mine, or remember her soft lips kissing my forehead good night, or her sweet smile encouraging me in every aspect of my life. If she loves me, it doesn’t matter what other people think. It doesn’t matter if others don’t understand it, we are bonded so deeply and it’s a love that CANNOT be whittled away by hatred. Don’t ever let this world tell you who you should be.

Just like Rome wasn’t built in a day, getting over the scars of your past does not happen overnight. It is a constant battle. For every Instagram picture I post about Body Positivity and loving yourself, there is still a small part of me that is terrified to let my boyfriend see me naked. Even though I know that he loves me, deeply and wholly, there is still a small part of me that still believes the world when it tells me I am too fat to be loved. For every milestone I accomplish, there is still a small part of me that feels destined to fail. For every person who loves and cares about me, there will always be one who believes I don’t belong on this Earth. In its own tiny, twisted, cruel way, sometimes the world does win these small battles. And no matter how hard we try we can’t save each other from experiencing these small moments of inhumanity.

We may not be able to save each other but we can help each other. We can remind each other every day that we are strong, beguiling, incredible creatures who are so deserving of love and happiness. We can lift each other up and scream out our accomplishments. We can relish in other people’s joy as much as our own. We can wish for each other’s success instead of failure. We can share our experiences, good and bad, so that we know we are not alone. We can let each other know that we know what it feels like. We know what it’s like to feel isolated and confused and desperate, and we will not perish beneath those feelings. We can make each other feel safe and accepted. We can make each other whole again.

So world, you can have your moments of doubt and fear and loneliness. Those little battles won’t matter when the battered band together to win the war.

Sincerely,

The Unbroken