I used to be Ugly

I used to be ugly.  At least, I thought so.  Pre-teens don’t know shit about beauty but what matters is that I felt ugly and as far as I’m concerned beauty is something that any sentient being must affirm in the self before acknowledging from without.  Simply put, I felt ugly so I was ugly.

My ugliness stemmed from one main factor for me: my dark skin.  We are talking late eighties and early nineties here.  Follow me to day when Al B. Sure tore up the airwaves, Aaliyah danced into our hearts and Mr. T. and Apollo Creed were big black dummies destined to get that ass whipped by the noble White man.

I had an affinity for playing basketball and touch football with my friends.  I had never even heard the word “sunscreen” before which meant if it wasn’t winter time, I had a nice Taye Diggs-esque color going.

My extended family on my father's side is almost all light skinned because my Great grand father on that line was a full blooded Irishman.  If it wasn’t for my dad’s hair, I’m sure he could have passed for White.  Mom has a nice and even brown tone thanks to her light skinned dad but her mom was good old Mississippi black.  I’m assuming it’s where my color comes from.

My older sister got her color from my dad my older brother got mom’s but me and baby sister are the most chocolate people at any of my dad’s family gatherings.

Those Negroes always loved me, though.  What got me so down about my skin was the TV.  Dark models, none.  Dark news anchors, none.  In rap videos, the rappers might be dark but wasn’t one dreadlock on a woman to be seen.  Nothing but light skinned, curly hair girls to be seen on TV, videos and movies.  Side note: I love you Rae Dawn Chong, I always will!!!!

Naturally all the kids around me saw the same shit and took it to school with them.  The light skinned girls had first pick of any guy.  The rayon shirt wearing light skinned niggas were all the honeys wanted and then there was me; poor, small and BLACK.

I was too little to be good at sports so the myth of the great black athlete got me nowhere.  I think I did what a lot of dark skinned brothers did back then; I started to hate.  I just told myself that light skinned dudes were all soft.  The problem with that is that I wasn’t exactly a hardcore gangsta.  I liked reading choose-your-own adventure books and playing SEGA.  My little ass couldn’t beat up my little sister until I was about 16, but in my adolescent mind, I had to cling to something and that was it.

I was blessed to get in to the gifted high school in KCK (Sumner) and got to interact with White people.  I learned soon enough that light skinned black people and Mixed kids weren’t so bad at all.  White people were.

Let me clear that up before I get called a racist (again).  The Black color complex is a serious problem but it ain’t got shit on racism.  The color complex keeps you from being cute.  Racism holds you as not only ugly but lazy, dumb and destined to be poor.  Something about dealing with that all day made me stop caring about not being handsome.

I would eventually make it to college (told them crackers I was smart!), shaved my head and got in to the culture of hip-hop.  Miraculously I finally internalized “Black is beautiful”.

I don’t get to spend as much time outside anymore so I rarely get my truly Black tone anymore.  I have to admit that I miss it now that I have the size and muscle to match it. 

The obvious irony is that what was once the bane of my existence is my cloak of confidence, my assertion of self worth.  Through all the slights, the traffic stops, the unfair interviews and the thick White women I can now see it as my only real suit armor.  It isn’t an illusion of safety but an acceptance of the beauty of vulnerability.  I may exist because of my thoughts but I enjoy life because of the skin I’m in.

I can now see that I’m beautiful.  I would even go so far as sexy.  Everyone might not agree but just as I once though that I was ugly, now I think otherwise and that makes it true.