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We’re back in the 90s, when the clock strikes around 5pm I gather my things awaiting my mothers arrival from work. I hear my grandfather telling my mother “Lynn, she didn’t say nothing”, then turns back to look out the window. My grandmother tells my mom something in creole, my mother sucks her teeth and says “Let’s go.” I can tell she is annoyed with me; on the walk home I open my mouth to speak, but I stop because I know that she won’t understand. Let me just keep walking.

I get home, prepare for my nightly routine…mom checks my homework, eats dinner, and scrubs my lips and my “disgusting” dark skin until the pain is unbearable. I read or watch TV, then bedtime comes as my cries lull me to sleep.

Why speak? Who in my family could understand what I was going through? I was the only one who looked like me! They couldn’t help me, God couldn’t help me and for damn sure I couldn’t help me.

Day in and day out I went to that elementary school and endured all that bullying from girls of my color, those who claimed to be my friends only to bully me later in the day, young boys of my color, and most importantly from myself. “Your mother left you in the oven too long”…”ugly” “stick”… And the list goes on. The words ran through my head daily and nightly until I began believing I was who they kept saying I was…an ugly black stick.

Who cared how many strangers walked up to my mother saying “her skin is so beautiful”…”you should have her model”. Who cares how many times my family members called me beautiful? They have to call me beautiful. The fact still remained I knew, I was an ugly, black stick. Who knew at such a young age how much of an effect these words would have on me well into my late teens?

Oh! Don’t you go looking in that mirror Liandra, don’t you dare take that picture Liandra, and don’t you even think of using the word “beautiful” to describe yourself. What is beautiful about being this dark? What is beautiful about being this frail weight? Nothing, there is nothing beautiful about you, so how can that be you? It’s not, so stop ! Who is speaking to me? This can’t be me! Have you really started to believe these people’s words? Stop…stop…stop!

*screams in my head and collapses on the bed*

Three years passed by and we moved into a new house and all the pictures of me have conveniently been “hidden” in hopes that my low self esteem and broken self confidence won’t resurge. Ha! My low self esteem was written all over my face and reared it’s ugly head in some of my actions…no one understood…STILL!! Damn! Let me just cover this crap up until I’m alone….can’t you hear my cries? How could you, I won’t let you!

“There’s nothing negative about having dark skin.” Yeah, whatever.

Liandra may I ask a question, do you still believe you’re an ugly black stick?

Good question…

Liandra