” I’m not perfect, but I’m starting to get comfortable, like a sweater you want to wear all the time.” -Leslie Jones “
I am a black woman with dark skin.
It’s taken me years to be proud of it. It’s taken a lifetime of insults, attacks, and much more tears to learn to accept it to love me as I am.
I had a friend’s parent once suggest that I use bleaching cream to help me with my self-esteem. She said it would make things easier for me in the long run.
I once had a crush tell me that he could never actually date me because I was “too dark to be pretty.”
One day at recess, some of the kids took black markers and held them up to my skin telling me that the markers were even lighter than I was. They then proceeded to color my arms with the marker screaming for others to come see the “darkest girl in the world.”
So when I read the tweets that were directed at Leslie Jones, it was an all too familiar tune to hear her say ” “what’s scary about the whole thing is that the insults didn’t hurt me.”
I tried to find my tribe, but no matter what I tried, I always felt like the odd duck swimming with swans, who all seemed to enjoy a sense of belonging I never quite felt.
Then a close friend pointed out that my ego had created this separation story that distanced me from the very belonging I craved. Since gulping down the uncomfortable truth of this guidance, everything started to shift for me, and finally, I am finding my tribe.