My melanin speaks louder than words. It glows with confidence while the privileged quake with ignorance. Does my melanin offend you? Does the color of my skin validate your assumptions about my character? Should I be followed around in stores or stopped by the police for the misdemeanor of driving while black? Does how tightly my hair coils define my put-togetherness, or does how I dress make me look like I'm "trying too hard to be white"? The truth is, the only thing I am trying to be is me. No, I'm not just "pretty for a black girl". I am a beautiful black woman.
Middle School. How could I have dismissed the benighted comments, which rolled off naïve tongue-"You're pretty, but black people are usually ugly, no offense." "You don't act like a black girl." "She's pretty, but her hair is weird." "Hey Oreo!" "I don't date black girls, no offense." The list goes on. I brushed it off, believing that suppressing my blackness would be for the better. Maybe if I acted "more white" people would treat me with respect. I always pushed myself to be better, forever cautious not to come across as "ghetto" or a "trouble maker." Even as a young child, it became normal for me to praise whiteness, and accept my race as inferior. I thought to be equal meant to be better than my race. In reality, embracing my race and rising above ignorance was …show more content…
A brick wall that stifled my aspirations. Now I understand that I let society erase my race, that I pressured myself to assimilate to their ideals. Today, I use it as a tool to drive me beyond expectation. It pours through my soul, into my writing, dancing, and singing, acting as a force which propels my passion. Accepting my race has made me realize that the sky is not the limit, and neither is the color of my skin. Through my experience I have realized that being "colorblind" merely invalidates the individualism and liberation which minorities seek when welcoming color as an integral part of their
Middle School. How could I have dismissed the benighted comments, which rolled off naïve tongue-"You're pretty, but black people are usually ugly, no offense." "You don't act like a black girl." "She's pretty, but her hair is weird." "Hey Oreo!" "I don't date black girls, no offense." The list goes on. I brushed it off, believing that suppressing my blackness would be for the better. Maybe if I acted "more white" people would treat me with respect. I always pushed myself to be better, forever cautious not to come across as "ghetto" or a "trouble maker." Even as a young child, it became normal for me to praise whiteness, and accept my race as inferior. I thought to be equal meant to be better than my race. In reality, embracing my race and rising above ignorance was …show more content…
A brick wall that stifled my aspirations. Now I understand that I let society erase my race, that I pressured myself to assimilate to their ideals. Today, I use it as a tool to drive me beyond expectation. It pours through my soul, into my writing, dancing, and singing, acting as a force which propels my passion. Accepting my race has made me realize that the sky is not the limit, and neither is the color of my skin. Through my experience I have realized that being "colorblind" merely invalidates the individualism and liberation which minorities seek when welcoming color as an integral part of their