In My Skin

A few months ago, I shared part of my story about who I am and some struggles I’ve had in a “white world.” In light of the chapter we are on in history, I want to share this with you again, and ask as you read, that you think of your own experiences in whatever skin you live in. If you are comfortable, I would love to hear about your experience and how you have grown, or what prayers you may need to help you get there.

 

I believe it’s important to share our stories, to share ourselves. This is where we can start.

 

I am a woman of color in America.

 

I can acknowledge that I am privileged in many ways. I grew up in a middle class, two-parent home, attended private school, went to and graduated from college, yet still, I struggle. I wear brown skin each day whether I feel like it or not. Though I’ve never carried the literal weight of chains, I do bear psychological scars of enslavement. I know that you see me with a smile on my face that radiates confidence, but the truth that lies behind the smile might surprise you.

 

When I was a little girl. . . well, it started when I was a little girl. . . I thought that I was ugly and that no one could see beauty in me unless they had brown skin and looked the way I did. When I was 15, a friend of mine, in fact, my best friend said,

 

“I think God made a mistake when He made you black. You should have been white.”

 

Whoa.

 

The sad thing is, that I agreed with her. He must have made a mistake. How did I end up in this skin? 

 

Today my heart breaks for that young girl who couldn’t see the beauty in herself. Today, I wish I could go back to her, wrap my arms around her brown shoulders and tell her how gifted she is, how beautiful she is, and how God doesn’t make mistakes. Of course, my parents loved me and did the best they could to help me see my potential, but my Southern Californian world of magazines, and TV, and Christian private school told me that people who looked like me were either criminals and thugs or they were rich comedians, singers or athletes whose only purpose was to entertain. So, who was I? Who did they think I was? Who did God say I was?

 

Though I always had a smile on my face (in fact, I won “best smile” in 8th grade, and “best laugh” in 12th grade) I carried the pain of feeling worthless. Isn’t it sad that we seek validation from those who don’t even truly know us while disregarding those who do, and love us unconditionally?

 

Growing up, I would dread that time each year in History class, when I knew that the next day, we would reach the “SLAVE CHAPTER.” It was that chapter in every History book that I dreaded because being one of the only black girls, I knew that everyone would turn and look at me wondering what it was like to be a slave.

 

“I DON’T KNOW YOU IDIOTS! I GREW UP JUST LIKE YOU! STOP LOOKING AT ME!” I wanted to scream every time.

 

I heard Latasha Morrison speak at IF: Gathering this year, and she hit the nail on the head when she said, many times when racial injustice happens, people look to the person of color to speak up for themselves, which in and of itself can feel oppressive. Imagine if those who are not of color spoke up and out for their brothers and sisters who are.

 

I know that would have made all the difference for me growing up, and even now.

 

Though I have come so far in developing a healthy relationship with my skin, I still sometimes struggle with the fear of not knowing if someone will look at me with disdain because my melanin levels make them uncomfortable.

 

Jennie Allen recently wrote a book called “Get Out of Your Head” where she talks about when we choose to believe lies about ourselves, it is at least one of three lies we believe. “I am helpless, I am worthless, I am unlovable.”

 

When I read that, I thought to myself, “Nope! Not me, I don’t have a problem with any of that!” until I thought about the fact that I sometimes still have a difficult time believing that people like me, much less love me. There are times when I feel that maybe they just need me for something or want something out of me.

 

Now, before you start trying to fix or set me straight by commenting about how much you like or love me, please know that I understand that it's a lie Satan wants me to believe, though I still have to fight that battle with him each day.

 

I didn’t realize until recently, that I fight a daily battle against that lie that I am unlovable.

 

Friends, it goes deep. It goes all the way back to the white boy who liked me but would never tell me or anybody else because I wasn’t the right color. It goes back to being called the n-word just because they felt they had a right. It goes back to being followed through a store because the news led them to believe that the involuntary “uniform” I wear is one of a thief. It goes back to being called a mistake by someone who claimed to love me. Satan is a liar.

 

I am a woman of color.

 

Please don’t tell me that you don’t see color. It’s not true, and it doesn’t make me feel loved and accepted. SEE me. I have brown skin. It may be different than yours, and that is okay. In fact, it’s more than okay. It’s phenomenal. Acknowledge and embrace our diversity. God created it, and it is beautiful. Let’s celebrate it!

 

Today, I recognize that I am beautiful because I am created by a God of beauty who doesn’t make mistakes. Today, I embrace the gifts that I have been given and will use them for His glory. Today, I accept my place as a child of God. I am royalty. I am valuable. I am chosen.

 

Don’t you know that you are too?

 

“There is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male and female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus.” -Galatians 3:28

 

What have you believed about yourself or someone else that wasn’t true? Will you choose to stop believing those lies, and embrace God's truth about who each of us truly is?