Being labelled ‘dark skinned’,
Used to break my heart,
Used to make me wish I had lighter skin,
Used to make me question why god painted me the wrong colour.
Everyone used to have an opinion on me being dark skinned,
Uncles would tell me I wouldn't find a husband,
Aunties would rave about how ‘fair and lovely’ could help me,
Cousins would tell how pretty I would have been if I had been lighter,
Mum without fail, would always remind me about not going into the sun.
I tried, I really did try not being ‘dark skinned’,
By lathering fairness creams on my skin religiously,
By not enjoying the warmthness of the sun in summer,
By asking god to make me lighter every night.
Embracing me being dark skinned was an uphill battle,
But I reached a point where I simply stopped caring,
And suddenly the whispers of what everyone thought died,
I went out into the sun during summer,
I proudly worn my ‘dark skin’ as an armour,
And no one could attack me with trivial things.
And I thanked god for my realisation,
Because he did paint me the right colour.