My Skin Wasn't the Problem, Society Made Me Believe It Was

Growing up as a Black individual in a world that often fails to appreciate the beauty of melanin-rich skin was a challenging experience. As a child, I never paid much attention to my skin colour—it was just a part of my identity. I played, laughed, and explored the world like any other child. However, as soon as I stepped outside my home, I was made to feel different.

It all began with innocent childhood games—running around the neighbourhood, playing with friends, and immersing ourselves in make-believe adventures. Then came the hurtful words that pierced through me like a knife: "Your skin is so dark, you're not pretty. We can only see your teeth at night!"

The other kids laughed, thinking it was all in good fun. But for me, it was a moment that shattered my confidence. I ran home in tears, looking at my reflection with a newfound insecurity. I didn't naturally dislike my skin; society taught me to.

I started covering up, wearing long sleeves, high-neck shirts, and full-length skirts to hide the body that I was told wasn't worthy of admiration. I believed that revealing clothes were only for those with lighter skin, the ones society deemed as beautiful. I accepted this belief because I didn't know any better. Despite my family's constant reassurance that I was lovely, I brushed off their words. After all, they were my family—what else could they say?

I yearned for validation from a world that had already rejected me.

The turning point in my journey wasn't a sudden realization, but a gradual awakening. It started with the quiet moments I spent alone, scrolling through images of Black women online. I discovered artists, activists, and everyday women who not only existed but thrived in their Blackness. I saw the power in their smiles, the strength in their eyes, and the sheer beauty of their diverse skin tones.

I observed how Black women carried themselves—confident strides, unapologetic laughter, and bold fashion choices. I delved into documentaries that explored the history of Black beauty, the resilience of our ancestors, and the ongoing fight for representation. It wasn't a single moment but a series of small exposures that gradually broke down the walls of insecurity I had built around myself.

From then on, I started challenging my internalised negative beliefs. I experimented with my style, embracing vibrant colours and bold patterns that celebrated my skin tone. I stopped trying to conceal my body and learned to appreciate its curves and contours. I began to care for my natural hair, exploring different braiding and styling techniques that reflected my personality and heritage.

My journey isn't about conforming to societal beauty standards or altering my skin colour. It's about fully embracing my Blackness—the good, the bad, and the beautiful. It's about taking control of my narrative and defining my beauty standards. It's about recognizing that I am more than enough just as I am.

Looking at my reflection now, I see strength, resilience, and beauty—not insecurity. I've realised that my skin tone is not a flaw but a symbol of pride, a testament to my heritage, and a reflection of my unique identity.

Today, I proudly stand as a Black woman who is learning to love her skin, her heritage, and herself. My journey continues, and I am committed to growth and self-discovery. I am no longer afraid to shine. I am no longer afraid to be seen. I am me—unapologetically and beautifully Black, and I will remain true to myself, always.

I wish everyone who is struggling with being black listens to what Lupita Nyong'o, once said: "I hope that my presence in media may inspire you, young girl, to embark on a similar journey—that you will find validation in your external beauty, but also come to understand that your beauty doesn't need validation from anyone else. Your beauty is a gift, a reflection of your soul, and it is yours to cherish.