Looking at myself in the mirror used to be a challenge. I couldn’t see me because I saw what everyone else thought.
Kids teased my fair skin, wavy hair, and gray eyes. They called me confused. Some said I was a white girl trying to be Black, while others said the opposite.
Too light to be Black.
Too dark to be white.
My mother’s Black, my father’s Caucasian. I am both, yet I believed what people said about me.
It took years to see my skin as beautiful. To see me as beautiful.
Just the way I am.
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