The Black Girl Blues

I remember, that for the longest time I was not comfortable with my body. I would feel so out of place standing next to the little white girls in my class. They had soft, blonde hair that flowed in the wind, while I had unruly black curls, that my mother had to snatch into braids on the weekends. When we would stand in line to leave class, I would compare my thick sturdy thighs to their slim ones. I remember that, around those girls I never felt pretty. I’d look at them and suddenly I’d feel blocky and unattractive, almost like an ogre. When boys were added into the equation, I felt like I was thrown into a constant battle for their affection. What chance could I stand in getting my crush’s attention against these girls? Looking in the mirror at my brown skin, frizzy hair, and chubby face all I could feel was pain and disappointment.

For years I felt like my blackness was a restriction on my beauty. It was something that stopped me from truly being beautiful - from being on the same level of pretty as other girls. We as black women are constantly told that we are too much. We are too loud, too angry, too annoying. In the media, we are portrayed as women who are hard as rocks, strong , and without emotion. But it’s not true. We want to feel beautiful and sexy. We have moments when we want to be desired and adored. And that’s okay. We don’t have to be society’s standard of beauty to be all of these things and more. Black femininity is such a unique and spectacular thing that it’s not going to be understood by everyone. And why does it have to be? Can’t we as black women decide for ourselves that we are our own standard of beautiful and accept it? I am 17 years old, and today instead of cursing my blackness for killing my femininity, I credit it for being the source of it. When I look in the mirror now, instead of hating my baby face, I appreciate how it makes me look sweet and pretty. I don’t thank God for the fact that my skin isn’t that dark anymore, instead I love how my melanin glows after I take a long shower. My thighs, which were once my biggest insecurity, are now my biggest asset. I love how soft and curvy they are, and I love how they look in a pair of skinny jeans. Today, I am not the same little girl who cried over her own darkness. Today, I have accepted that I am black magic itself.

cover art cr.: tumblr - @jalainacarey