I was uncomfortable in my own skin for 17 years. I could not love myself because of the colour of my skin for 17 years. I spent more money than what was necessary to turn my mane of a head into flowing locks of golds.
....I was uncomfortable in my own skin for 17 years because every day served as a reminder of how imperfect my blackness was; because the vulgarities you yelled etched into my skin like the hot tongs used to mark slaves.
..and after 17 years I realize: My black skin is just as beautiful as yours, and my kinky hair is as it is supposed to be. Black does not mean ugly, and your laughs cannot define me. Your preference is not my concern, and your hatred isn't either.
I was uncomfortable in my own skin for 17 years....and that is exactly what is wrong with our world.