“Just Black”
Photo by Leighann Blackwood on Unsplash
Accepting My Regularity in an Exotic-Loving World
I read a post that was linked on Twitter by one of my followers entitled “Plain Ol’ Regular Black” by blogger Nesha at her site Table of Conscious. It was a great read about how colorism-based identities ebb and flow based on maturity, experience, and confidence. The author of the post describes how she once took pride in looking more exotic to some than her Black American peers. She chronicles her experiences with anecdotes about past relationships which reinforced her pride in looking more than “just black.” As I read the post and felt pride swell in me as her confidence in her Black American background developed, I immediately began thinking of my situation, which juxtaposes her own. See, I have never and probably will never be confused for anything more or less than what I am, a Black American girl.
Born with a round nose, kinky hair and medium to light skin, I, as well as most of my family members, am the epitome of what a stereotypical black girl looks like. There’s nothing exotic about me and in a world where black beauty is still praised in the context of Halle Berrys, Alicia Keyses and Lupita Nyongos, it still is taking me some time to understand where I fit in this spectrum.
Up until college, I was always very comfortable with my looks–well, as comfortable as a teenager could be. But once I began matriculating at UMD, I felt that my kind of beauty wasn’t special enough. This along with cultural clashes in the black community made me defensive about being “just black.” Even calling myself “just” anything felt as if I was undermining the amazing things the Black-American community has done in this country and on that campus. However, despite the fierce pride, I exuded concerning my culture, I still found myself idolizing the beauties of exotic looking women (to my shame I even had a Kim Kardashian poster on my wall. We thank God for growth.)
Leaving college has provided me with much-needed hindsight that has allowed me to consider the social and aesthetic experiences I had in college as stepping stones toward a greater consciousness about myself. I am still looking for more black female role models who are praised for their standard, “just black” beauty (at this point Kerry Washington is the only one I can conjure up.) I am still waiting for the day for more women with black daddies and black mommies to become international superstars (again, Kerry Washington.) I am in no way attempting to challenge the blackness of any of my sisters who look different from me. I am, however, presenting a perspective of a regular girl attempting to exude confidence in a world that favors the exotic.