"Speaking of lovely;
That's what I've always known them to be all my life. Their skin- creamy white and their figure: eight- perfect for the view. I told my father they were like mayonnaise.
Some of them were white as sheet, adorned as the image of perfection. They had beautiful hair, tumbling downwards in docile curls. Mine was ugly; it remained an amusement to my brothers who had made a game of hiding my combs just to see me run with the thick mane on my head every morning I had to visit the onÃdìrì.
I had wanted just the hair as a little girl. I spent good time staring at commercials that played on our fourteen inch TV set, in awe. My father usually snapped me out of it, sending me to my books; the only way, he chanted day after night. Still, I was always mesmerized by them. I never did look down on my own skin. I didn't realize we were worlds apart. Their flow seeming unnatural,
I once thought they were goddesses.
I got older and have learnt how different I am from them. They've always been up there on the screen, representing beauty. Here I am, worlds apart: Tainted, Colored, Black.
I was fine with my color in the beginning, I was indifferent maybe because I thought I was invisible. Until lately, I have had to stand side by side with beauty.
An opportunity, I had thought; Fairies, Fair skinned angels. Their speech was what held me spellbound, they had very fast tongues.
My father calls me his smartass baby. He told me I had made him proud getting into a room of the privileged. My brains was all I needed, all I had, to take me places.
Years passed and there I stood, while getting recognized for being a genius, they now see me for what I am. I hear the whispers of "how did a black girl get into this prestigious program?" and realize what color I have always been: Black, tainted. Ugly.
As the sickness tore through me, while they spoke of my color before me and how it gave me the opportunity because of their recent inclusion policy, reminding me I descend from their slaves, I wonder why I ever sojourned beyond borders. I wasn't black in Ibadan, I was just-
I had wanted just the hair as a little girl. I spent good time staring at commercials that played on our fourteen inch TV set, in awe. My father usually snapped me out of it, sending me to my books; the only way, he chanted day after night. Still, I was always mesmerized by them. I never did look down on my own skin. I didn't realize we were worlds apart. Their flow seeming unnatural,
I once thought they were goddesses.
I got older and have learnt how different I am from them. They've always been up there on the screen, representing beauty. Here I am, worlds apart: Tainted, Colored, Black.
I was fine with my color in the beginning, I was indifferent maybe because I thought I was invisible. Until lately, I have had to stand side by side with beauty.
An opportunity, I had thought; Fairies, Fair skinned angels. Their speech was what held me spellbound, they had very fast tongues.
My father calls me his smartass baby. He told me I had made him proud getting into a room of the privileged. My brains was all I needed, all I had, to take me places.
Years passed and there I stood, while getting recognized for being a genius, they now see me for what I am. I hear the whispers of "how did a black girl get into this prestigious program?" and realize what color I have always been: Black, tainted. Ugly.
As the sickness tore through me, while they spoke of my color before me and how it gave me the opportunity because of their recent inclusion policy, reminding me I descend from their slaves, I wonder why I ever sojourned beyond borders. I wasn't black in Ibadan, I was just-
It is hell to be lost in the midst of an ocean of cream.
I can't stop staring in the mirror when I return to my closet, neither can I stop the tears from staining my cheeks. I've tugged and pulled at my skin, yet it shines back in my face-
A mockery of what I am;
Glistening black.
'Siyah
Glistening black.
'Siyah
Image Credit: Pinterest
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