When I was little, about two or three, I couldn't have cared less about my appearance, or at least the physical attributes I couldn't change about myself, like my skin color, or the curliness of my hair. I just wanted to wear pink dresses and my princess crown and gloves. I loved being me. I was cute and fun and full of energy. Like a lot of young girls, I was obsessed with Barbies and princess movies and Britney Spears, and there was nothing wrong with that. I was happy and that was all that mattered.
But as I got older, I became increasingly unhappy with myself. I was unhappy with my boring brown eyes; I wanted green ones. I was unhappy with my textured and curly short black hair, I wanted long, silky, blonde hair. I was unhappy with my dark complexion that was prone to ashy-ness; I wanted to be fair-skinned.
Why didn't I look like all the pretty actresses on TV?
Why didn't I look like any of the Disney princesses?
Why wasn't there a Barbie who looked like me?
Why couldn't I look like my blue-eyed and fair-skinned sisters?
Why couldn't I look like my cousin, with golden blonde hair down her back?
People of color are not seen as desirable in popular culture, especially when I was growing up. Our features are ridiculed instead of being praised. Terms like "n***er nose" are used to describe a larger and more flat nose. People who choose to have natural hair are bashed because their hair is "nappy". Those who choose weaves pr wigs are made fun of for being fake.
Google "ideal woman" and see what comes up. Google "beautiful women" and see how far you have to scroll to see a dark complected woman. What I was seeing on the internet, on tv, in movies, in magazines did not match up with who I was. It was disheartening. I didn't see myself as a beautiful woman, I only saw what I wasn't--and couldn't--ever be.
I was obsessed with imagining myself with white skin. Obsessed. When I played "house" with my friends, I would describe myself as a beautiful blonde with blue or green eyes. I always picked the prettiest, whitest Barbie on the shelf. Sure, I had dolls of color, but they were always the least played with.
I constantly told my cousin how much I wish I had hair like hers. I hated my hair so much that I would cry about it. In first grade, my mom finally took me to get my hair done properly with a protective hair style. I got cornrows that I pulled into a ponytail, with tiny bead dangling from the ends. The next day at school, I got so many looks and questions about my hair that I decided I hated it. The next time I got my hair done, I demanded it be relaxed (relaxation is the chemically straightening of hair). I was so excited. I finally had the long sleek hair I wanted so badly.
When I got older and started taking an interest in boys, I became obsessed with my skin tone. I constantly wondered if boys would find a black girl attractive. I wondered if I was too black, as if being darker-complected would scare people off. When boys I liked didn't like me back, I assumed it was because of my skin color.
As I got older, it was like I became embarrassed of myself. I was so uncomfortable about my race that when my friends would make racist comments, even in a joking manner, I couldn't stand up for myself. In fact, I even joined in, as if being black was a joke that I had set up myself.
It never mattered what others said to me. No one has ever called me ugly (not in a sincere and honest way). In fact, I often got compliments on my complexion, but it just never got through to me.
Yeah, well, I guess I'm pretty but I'll never be Giselle-pretty.
Yeah, I guess I like my complexion, but wouldn't I look a little better if my skin was a bit lighter?
Looking back now, I really can't help but point a finger at popular culture. Sure, there were black women in film, in fashion and in music, but man oh man were they pushed to the back of the stove. No one ever said they wished they could be like Dionne from "Clueless." No one wants to be the Clovers when reenacting "Bring It On." Looking back on some of my favorite movies growing up, I can't even pick out one that had a person of color as the lead.
When "The Princess And The Frog" came out in 2009, I was ecstatic. Finally, a black Disney princess. Oh, I loved Tiana, but, damn, if anyone would call her a "real" Disney princess. People love the shitty role model that is Cinderella, but can't be bothered to even remember the name of "the black one."
Remember when Gabby Douglas won a gold medal and all anyone could talk about was how ugly her hair was?
When they announced the cast for the new "Annie," everyone about lost their heads. Black Annie? Unacceptable!
This nation is notorious for making people of color feel ugly.
I am tired of feeling ugly for my dark skin. I'm tired of being nervous to not have a weave in. I'm tired of being pretty "for a black girl."
I am reclaiming my beauty for myself. I am tired of feeling like I have to be categorized differently because of my skin.
I will no longer hate myself because popular culture told me to.
