What My Blackness Means to Me
“I wish it was not this hard for me to accept that being black is a beautiful thing. Being black is one of my favorite aspects about myself because it tells a story.”
What does it mean to be black in the 21st century? Being black in the 21st century means trying to navigate a world that is constantly changing. It also means continuing the legacy of activism from older generations. It means breaking the shackles from colonists that were ruling over their countries such as Ghana, Nigeria ,Togo, Senegal, and plenty more. Being black is more than just a color. Being black symbolizes strength, hardship, and resilience. I want to shed light on how being black is a gift and a beautiful thing. Black History Month is a month that is dedicated to honoring and celebrating how diverse the history of black history has been.
I struggled with my identity a lot as a young girl. A lot of people used to bully me about the color of my skin and that really made me despise being black. I had to go through a period trying to find myself. Trying to actually love not just being black but also being a black woman, someone of African descent, and so much more.
As a young child being black was always considered one of the most negative things in the world. I remember going to school and people in my grade would make disgusting comments, calling me derogatory names like “African booty scratcher.” Other students would turn off the lights and say things like “where did Evelyn go.” It was very hard trying to love my skin tone because people did not love it on me. Because of this, it has become a very big trend, especially in the African culture, for women to bleach their skin because everyone around either tells them to or because they are seeking the love that they only see given to lighter skin women. I have thought about if I was lighter-skinned, would I be more admired? Would all those comments about me stop? But sadly, for me, those comments never did.
I went to one of the worst public schools in NYC: Lorraine Hansberry Academy. This is the place where I endured most of my suffering. It was a place where all of the assumptions that are placed against public schools rang true. The kids treated me with such meanness. It was like being black was like one of the worst things ever. I just never understood what the issue was. I dreaded going to school. The comments made about the complexion of my skin will always be difficult to forget. I experienced such a deep sting that it led me to contemplate negative thoughts.
But there will always be that one moment I will never forget, which was back in the fourth grade. My fourth grade teacher was the rudest teacher ever. She taught all subjects except science. I remember being in the science class. I was being called the nastiest names by this one specific student. We were only 9 or 10 years old, and it was just sickening that they could think of all these names. There were times that the other students would even get physical and pull little “pranks” just to make it worse. I went back to my primary teacher and that student was removed from the class. And she questioned my fourth grade class. She asked: “Have you ever been bullied by S?” Almost half the class raised their hand. My teacher looked at me with a confused face. She asked me directly: “Were you actually bullied by him?” Her tone when she asked that question had made it seem like I was lying. I nodded. She made me feel so little at that moment. That is when I realized it was really me against the world. But I didn't get why it had to be like that though.
A couple years went by and I started to take in the fact that I should hate the color of my skin because others do. I had to recognize that I had a legacy of the woman who had this rich skin, that I shouldn't be insecure about it either. It was hard to come to this realization because both my parents who come from Africa did not go through the same hardships as I did. I'm way older now and I could give a whole list of reasons on why being black is the best thing in the world right now. It gives me power; I used to feel powerless. I eventually gained that power. The power that I was lacking during those moments in elementary school to middle school. I wish I was able to have this power back then. I wish it was not this hard for me to accept that being black is a beautiful thing. Being black is one of my favorite aspects about myself because it tells a story.
Something that I admire about Black History Month is that it brings so many communities together. But it is not only Black History Month during February, no. It is always Black History Month because we the black community are doing something impactful everyday. Shania Muhammad made history when she graduated at 15 years old with not only one but 3 bachelors degrees, and now at 16 she is a full time certified teacher. Kamala Harris is the first black woman and South Asian American to be elected Vice President.
We the black community have achieved so much, whether it is locally or globally. We are making an impact in this world. It makes me really appreciate being black; we have the power to do great things. It sucks that there were moments in my life where I did feel like being black was not cool, moments where my culture was made fun of because other people were deflecting or insecure. It was a journey of self discovery that led me to value and embrace everything around me and about myself.
The beauty of growing up lies in the ability to connect with others on a profound level and sharing those experiences. Meeting people that have lived similar experiences fosters a meaningful conversation about what it was like to be a 1st grader hearing those nasty comments. These connections have enriched my understanding of resilience and adaptation because it's not easy taking in those types of comments at such an early age. But it does push you to toughen up and endure more.