The Thoughts of an Suburban Black Girl

She smiled at her like a beam of light, astonishing her with its fair skin complexion and glossy long locks fluttering down her back. Is this me? She thought as she squinted through the crowd of colorless passerbys, while ignoring her own color. For years, she envisioned this person or angel as her inspiration without considering who she was herself.

As a child, her chubby hands instantly outreached for her favorite toy in Toys R Us, a Barbie doll. A white Barbie doll, just like the “angel” she had envisioned in her mind. She unconsciously blinded herself from wanting a black doll or anything that looked like herself. In elementary school, she envied the sight of Talia; this dark-skinned girl with her hair finely pressed and laced with the deathly chemical, which she now considers “black crack”- the perm. She glared at this little girl with her “perfectly” straight hair, wishing to be rid of her kinky dirt colored hair. Unconsciously with the books she read, she envisioned the characters in a world of creamy skinned individuals, as she immersed herself in advanced books from authors like Joan Lowery Nixon, and Rick Riordan. Her multitude of drawings consisted of fair skinned people; as it was easy to draw what she saw, what she only envisioned as beautiful. The TV shows she watched with her mother considered of the best, such as I Dream of Jeannie, Bewitched, and The Beverly Hillbillies. All these characters represented only Caucasian people, the typical blonde hair and blue eyes shown as the attractive feline character. This racial prejudice showcased all around her extended to her darkest moments in her dreams, which were blotted with the fear of colored individuals.

During middle school, her hair finally transitioned into a perm to make it straight, but disliked the shortness. For a while she thought, why is my hair not growing like all of the other girls? Once another fellow classmate had pronounced, “You are a black white girl.” In her mind she thought of this as a compliment, thinking since she did not match someone’s own stereotype of black people, it was good.

Her life continued in this self-hatred until high school. The “angel” that she had envisioned in her mind started to not have the same intense brightness, as she started to look at the others around her. She realized as they began to burst forth and blossom with such vibrancy in hue, that it harmonized with colors of the “angel”. This slow and gradual progress started with transiting to a predominantly African American church instead of a majority Caucasian Baptist church. Being bathed amiss black excellence with lawyers, medical professionals, engineers, and teachers and other successfully thriving ash brown individuals aided her mental self-love build up. More small steps were taken as she was elected into National American Miss as a state finalist. Seeing other girls of her own skin color presenting on stage in front of judges boosted her confidence as she won awards in the talent, casualwear, and spokesmodel competitions. Continuing taking more baby steps, she reverted back to her own ebony thick hair like the beautiful Solange Knowles with tight coils and luscious curls. Positive comments circled around her hair in freshman year including the typical, “Can I touch your hair?” as she was one of the only African American girls.

Scrolling through her new iPhone 7 during junior year, she came across the podcast app and thought ‘I wonder what this is’. Unknowingly, she ventured into a path that would bring her closer to her true self through the different voices represented in podcasts. This led to her using her Instagram page for inspiration from other African Americans around the world by following people like mediablackoutusa, protectivestyles, and chiziduru. Slowly, but surely the crowd and the angel became harmonized as she realized and loved her own color. The she is me.