Thursday, September 4, 2014

Growing Up A Black Girl


How was it for you growing up as a black child? Did you ever get laughed at because your skin was to dark or because your hair wasn't straight enough ? I know I had my share of being picked on. 
I was born to a black man and a black woman ( Obviously ) shortly after my birth my mother passed away. My dad got into a new relationship, but this time it was with a white woman. She was the only "mom " I knew for the first 6 years of my life. I looked at her and didn't see a difference with color, all I knew is she was my mom. I didn't know I had a mom who had hair like me, or had the same skin color as me. When I about 7, I went to my grandmothers house for a visit. She told me she had something to show me. She went to her room and I waited at the kitchen table for her, wondering what it could be. A few minutes later, she came back to the kitchen with this book in her hand. She opened this book and it was filled with pictures. I said " what is this grandma "?.... She looked at me and smiled and said " this is your momma ". At that very moment my whole life had changed. Being so young I felt so lost and confused. Life didn't get easier, seems as though my dad being in a relationship with a white woman, he began to lose himself in her ways of life. I started to noticed all my close friends were white kids, because my dad was friends with their dads. The only black kids I got to play with were my cousins. I remember wanting my hair to look like little white girls hair, they would touch my hair and ask, why did it feel so rough? Every summer we would go to the lake house with a couple of white families, and after being in the sun for to long, they would laugh at me because I was so dark.  I knew something was not right, at that age I knew it wrong to laugh at people because they are different. The worst experience I had was when I was 8 years old, one of my white friends came to spend the night. As little girls do, we played barbies and dress up. She stopped and looked at me and said " Why is your skin different than mine "? I didn't know what to say. She then said to me " I know how to fix you, so you can look just like me " .... She got a bottle of Calamine lotion and began rubbing it on me, from head to toe. After she finished, she said " Now you look like me and we can be best friends forever". Did I really have to have white colored skin to fit in ? Thats the question I asked my daddy. When he found out about the incident, He was so angry. He sat me down and had a long talk with me, explaining that I am beautiful and that being a black girl makes me extra special. He hugged me and told me never let someone tell me I'm not good enough because my skin is dark. As the years went by I was still confused and didn't know where I fit in. To the black people, I talked to proper, I dressed to nice, I thought I was better because of my hair. To the white people, my skin was to dark, hair was to rough, and didn't have as much property compared to their family. Basically I had to take this journey through life alone as a little black girl. I had to learn to love myself for who I am and recognize that I am unique is so many ways. I had to educate my self about my culture and learn how important my people are and where I come from. My dad did the best he could by talking to me but, the question is " How can you teach your child to love herself, when you don't love yourself or expose her to the culture in which she comes from "? All the talking he did only confused me more. I wasn't exposed to my african culture, I only knew about the history of the civil rights movement and very little about slavery. I wasn't told how it all began in Africa, I wasn't taught about our religion we once lived by. I was forced into Christianity, forced to worship a God that was created in the imagine of the Europeans. I'm 26 years old and I'm now reinventing myself as a proud, beautiful African Queen. I don't need a relaxer in my hair to make me beautiful, I embrace the the curls that I was given, I know that I am a strong woman and my african ancestors whisper strength and wisdom through my soul. Each day I make it my goal to educate myself more and more. I was asleep for so many years, now that I'm awake and I know the truth, no one will ever be able to put me to sleep again. 
This was just a short description of what I went through growing up black, I have tons of stories. Please share with me your experiences. Did it affect you in a positive way or in a negative way ? 

Sending you all my love, 
Bre Villafuerte 

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