” ‘Light-skinned and long, good hair’ was the narrative that I carried home with me at a very young age. Not understanding what that meant, my parents discussed the issue of colorism within the Black community before I even knew how to complete long division. Over the years, my mother and grandmother continuously explained to me that, unfortunately, I would encounter this colorism conversation throughout my life. My first professional home consisted of 85 percent White men over the age of 45, so embracing my ‘womaness’ was a challenge in itself and then to add the most important layer — Black woman — was nonexistent. Nearly a decade later, I enter the world as a Black, straight-haired, light-skinned, woman — who happens to have a full set of hips on her as well. My deepest insecurities stem from my fellow Black women, who over the years have challenged my confidence with remarks like ‘oh you don’t have to worry about your hair in the morning like I do’ or ‘you realize being on the fair side makes you less threatening to them.’ Too often, being light comes with the burden that other Black folks assume that you believe you are superior. For me, nothing has ever been further from the truth. I want to wake up, look in the mirror, and not worry about how my light skin, straight-hair wearing presentation might offend my Black sisters who encounter the same White supremacist ideology. I want my beautiful Black sisters to know that their struggle is my struggle — it is our struggle.”
