Very BLACK, Very PROUD

 

The audacity to be this black and be happy, the audacity to be this black and comfortable, the audacity to be this black and living. Yet, it is this very blackness that should have chained me that gives me the freedom to be me.

I turn 22 this year and never have the words young, gifted and black meant as much to me as they do now. Earlier in my life, being black, this black , was a burden. I was the darkest kid in schools, at church, in my family and many made it their task to ensure that I never forgot this. To them it was a curse, the worst thing that a person could be and for many years my mother had to tell me that black was beautiful. Mothers were supposed to say that to you, so while it was appreciated, it carried very little weight. So there I was, a young very black girl with very little self-confidence.

A couple of years into this blackness, I had experienced 6 schools and at all 6, someone had taken it upon themselves to pick at my confidence. It was my identity and attached with the identity of blackness, it didn’t surprise many when I was good at sports but it shocked them when I was kind, or when I excelled in class. After all, how dare I ?

I moved to the Bahamas when I was 18 and this is a very important part of my story because of the timing and what it did to my identity. SO there was getting up and what follows, is living.

When I reflect on the many things that moving taught me, I can not forget to share that it was there that my  redefinition of self began. I had to leave my home to find a strong sense of self value and appreciation. The Bahamas, while beautiful, is gravely plagued with colourism. Colourism as a word means that people of the same race consider themselves or others superior or inferior based on the shade of their skin and while I had observed this practice in my own country, I had never experienced it the way I did there. Perhaps this was because I was old enough to understand the dynamics of it. In the first few weeks of living in the Bahamas, I had already started to hear little comments about my skin, and how  it was “so black” and how I “mussy Haitian”, and how  I “don’t bathe”.  On one occasion, sitting in a hair salon, a woman walked up to me with her bleaching creams and said she had one that would work well on my skin, like in all my years of living, it hadn’t occurred to me that I was in fact, dark. Don’t get me wrong, every now and then I got a compliment but the negatives stood out. I had left Zambia and was still facing the same issues, my blackness was not going anywhere  and neither were the people.

The difference with experiencing colourism in the Bahamas, is that I was away from things familiar and things that I drew my identity from. I was in the perfect position to redefine myself. Technically no one knew me and I could create my own identity as this time those that mocked me, although majority black, were not my people and I’d be damned if I let them define me. It started with the decision to cut my hair. If I was going to appreciate myself, I wanted to confront all my insecurities head on and with no hair, I couldn’t cover my forehead. It was the most naked, empowering thing I could have done and that simple step towards self-appreciation began a chain reaction that resulted in others appreciating and being inspired by me. Imagine that, this black girl inspiring, creating and flourishing. I hadn’t imagined that my blackness would lead to me being a part of something meaningful.

I look back at how far I’ve come and I remember walking into a gallery with my friend Juno, and meeting Antonius Roberts. Mr Roberts, a renowned artist, had seen me and his first comment was, “Oh, my God, you’re beautiful”.  I looked at him and went into a panic. I felt embarrassed instead of feeling proud and thankful. Over the years, I had become so suspicious of compliments and thought of them as a form of ridicule. My reaction set the foundation of our friendship and from it came discussions that brought me to slowly appreciate many elements of my being. Mr Roberts and I talked about being African in the Bahamas and being this shade of black in the Bahamas. We talked about beauty and my reaction to compliments. We talked about women and their rights and we inspired each other. After a few talk sessions with him I became his muse and he used his inspiration and other dialogue to create an entire exhibition on Equality and Respect.

I wrote this for the Equality and Respect exhibition:

“Who are you after you leave everything you think defines you

and must sustain yourself? When no one will watch over your

actions as was done before? When it seems like God is not

watching you and you are left alone, in a new place, and you

must decide who you are before you lose the very foundation

of your existence?

I decided that I would wear my blackness with strength and

pride. I would love the skin I was in; I would not allow anyone

to steal my confidence.

I decided to be the woman whose presence screams

confidence, peace with oneself and joy.

When you move to a place where colorism is so strong, you

can’t afford to be unsure of your blackness or of your heritage.

You must love yourself and share that love with others, by

accepting and embracing yourself.”

 

The truth is that even as I wrote those words, I have never believed them and embraced them as much as I do now.Today, I am back in the land that I thought I drew all of my identity from, and I am not that very black, ashamed little girl. I am a woman who embraces what it means to be this hue. I wear whatever colour I want. I’m not “too black” for anything. I’m not “pretty for a dark skin girl”. Listen, I am just as much woman as the next one. I am hard-working. I am soft. I am happy. I am, not in spite of my blackness but because of it. I am young, gifted and black. So, next time you are questioning my audacity, remember, getting there was a journey and much of it lies ahead. I am ever so grateful for Instagram and the melanin inspired hashtags, because incase I forget, there is another strong, sexy, independent, happy, flourishing, wholesome black girl reminding me that OUR hue is beautiful .

I end with this, the presence of someones beauty does not mean the absence of your own. Find peace in that.

I have.

Sincerely yours,

Naked