I had created so many beauty blockers for myself. I was also convinced that I was too dark to rock some red lipstick and red nails. I would never color my hair blonde, for fear that I was too dark and would be laughed at for lightening my hair. My grandparents’ only light-skinned child, she was the golden child in her community.Īs time progressed, I built up complexes that I was unaware of on a conscious level. For as long as I could remember, since I was a young girl, everyone has always told my mother how pretty she is. My response was a sheepish, ” I guess so.”Īt the time I thought she simply didn’t understand because she had been born with the privilege of light skin, and never had to face these types of problems. “That’s like saying you’re pretty for a monkey, or, that despite your blackness, you’re pretty.” Do you understand me? Her corrections landed on top of me like a hard thud, and then sank in like a dull stomachache. When I explained that I saw it as a compliment, she instantly and quite bluntly corrected me. My mother immediately questioned my decision to say thank you to such a comment. If you can’t simply tell her she is pretty, don’t say anything at all.” Boy was she furious. As I smiled and said, “thank you,” my mother became incensed. One day, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, someone granted me the usual back-handed compliment, telling me I was pretty despite being dark-skinned girl, only this time my mom was there to witness it. After all the derogatory comments I heard about my complexion throughout childhood, it felt like a step up from being told by my darker skinned grandfather that I was “nothing but a black bitch.” So, I thought, I’ll take it. “I was a prize,” I thought, despite being born with dark skin. Why? Because I felt that most people didn’t expect to find beauty in dark-skinned black girls, so when they claimed to find beauty in me, I actually felt flattered.Īll was well in my little bubble. So, when people would say, “You’re pretty for a dark-skinned girl,” I took it as a compliment. Growing up, every image depicted around me gave the message that most dark girls were ugly. “You’re pretty for a dark-skinned girl.” That was the comment that defined my early life, to which I would typically reply, “thank you.” I offered the reply of “thank you” quite generously up until my mid-twenties. By Allison Kugel 0 You’re Pretty… For a Dark-Skinned Girl
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