Growing Up As A Dark-Skinned Black Girl in America Part 3


Crying Angel. Unable to find one with brown skin on Google image search.

Growing up a dark-skinned black girl in America is like putting your soul to the final test at an early age. You are essentially the exact opposite being that America values. You are not white, strike 1. You are black, strike 2. You are a woman, strike 3 ...and you are out! 

“For most people, their spiritual teacher is their suffering. Because eventually suffering brings about awakening.” — Eckhart Tolle

Your life is set by a different set of rules. But good thing is you are intelligent. You are able to learn the system, observe how it works, observe what others are doing to excel, and with your own magic you are able to be the best at literally everything you seek to do. That is the power of creation that black woman posses.

In high school I joined every club I possibly could. My best friend and I thought it would be a great way to get ourselves in the yearbook and be yearbook famous. We were always obsessed with becoming famous.

I was in the knitting club, recycle club, environmental club, Kiwanis club, foreign language club, (there are more but I don’t have access to my yearbook). I was also a track star who set school records and later a cheerleader. I earned All-American on my first attempt at cheer camp when others were afraid to even try.

I felt like everything I did I excelled in and would always strive to be the best. To be perfect. When I reached these goals, I didn’t understand why I was still an outcast of sorts. I would be in these clubs and sports, but still wasn’t able to connect with my peers.

I remember reading in an old diary that I was what I perceived as “perfect” and listed off how thin I was, how I was a cheerleader, how I was pretty, yet still there was something missing. I still didn’t quite fit in.

I was in gym class one morning and there was always a guy there who would pick on me. It was unfortunate that I myself a dark-skinned black girl was being bullied by a dark-skinned black male. One day he took it as far as throwing a basketball at my head… hard. I couldn’t understand why I was being treated this way, when I was friendly to everyone and never had any drama. He would always say I was ugly, make fun of my clothes, and teased my best friend.

I didn’t have a boyfriend until  I was out of high school. I was never asked to the homecoming (though I dreamed about it and fantasized how my night would go). I achieved all of these goals that were pushed down my throat by a society that didn’t really give a shit about me yet I was still for the most part isolated.

I couldn’t complete high school, by the end of my Junior year I was done. I would lay in my bed all day and had no energy. I was depressed. My senior year I couldn’t really make it to class and I just called it quits. I had 1 credit left to graduate and I said fuck it.

To be continued…

(This is a bit more of a personal post, but I feel as if it relates to my ascension and I’d like to share my truth.) 





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