Let me start off this piece by giving a bit of background information about myself. I'm an 18 year old biracial female (half African American, half caucasian), and I was born and grew up in Youngstown, Ohio with my parents Edward and Lisa.
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Without a doubt I can assure you that I haven't faced nearly as much racism and prejudice as those like me who may live in regions of the country that may be notorious for that, but I won't deny that I've faced my fair share. Throughout my years here on this planet we call Earth, I've went through three phases on my journey with accepting my blackness, and becoming Pro-Black: first was oblivion, second was denial, and third was acceptance and pride.
Oblivion kept me quiet. It kept my mind silent, and my mouth clamped shut. I grew up in a predominantly white part of my town and was almost always the only person of color in my classes, up until middle school and high school. Being that I was who I was, it made me a target. My skin looked different; I was tan, but not the tan you get from your family's yearly vacation to Disney World. I was "black tan". My hair was different; deep dark brown, full of hundreds of spirals and curls that reached out in all directions. My lack of generally euro-centric features made me the pit of jokes. I was called dirty, because of the color of my skin. Unkempt, because my hair didn't lay flat but instead rose up towards the sky and out to the sides. Monkey, cause my lips were large and full. Everything that was ever said to me like that hurt me. I thought that it was okay, because I thought that it was human nature to make fun of and tease something or someone who's different. But it's not.
Denial made me anguished. At this point in my life, I began to hate myself, and who I was. I wanted to be white or at least lighter, and have white features. I traded in my spirals and ringlets for pin straight and oh-so damaged relaxed tresses. I somewhat hated the sun, in refusal of getting darker. I opted for clothes that I saw all the white girls in my class sporting; Hollister, Aeropostale, American Eagle. I walked the walk and talked the talk, but I still never seemed to be...white enough. Denial started to transform into resentment for myself when I realized that I'll never be white enough to fit in where I was.
Acceptance and pride healed me and transformed me. At the end of my freshman year of high school, I cut off all of my damaged, relaxed, pin straight hair and sported my curls in a small, cropped afro. It took time to get used to, but I slowly came to love my spiral filled curly hair. The sun became my best friend. I embraced the dark golden color that I adopted from the rays. I started to change not only appearance, but as a person also.
I realized what I faced in regards to being in denial of my blackness, is what many other girls like me may be facing around the world. The fact of the matter is, black women have never been seen as the standard of beauty. Euro-centric beauty standards perpetuate the thought among some women of color that their features aren't beautiful. The lack of representation of women of color is one of the main reasons why I went through what I did; I didn't see women who looked like me in the media all the time, or in magazines.
My acceptance of my blackness gave me pride. I love my blackness because it makes me who I am. My hair that goes in all directions, my golden skin with it's best friend the Sun, my lips full and round. I love who I am. My pride in who I am brought me out of my shell, and in turn gave me some of the best friends that I could've asked for.
Your blackness isn't something you should ever be ashamed of. My black is beautiful, and your black beautiful too.
