Accepting Myself

It had been a long time in coming but the moment was finally here. I was sitting with my family and friends at my high school graduation party. The group was intermingled but it was easy to spot members of my mother’s family and fathers. My father’s side of the family is from Ghana, dark skin and strong African features.  My mother’s side is fair skinned and freckled typical of their Irish descent.  Where did I fit into this mixture?
Growing up, my white friends saw me as black, my black friends saw me as the “white girl” and for all others I was just “mixed”. It wasn’t always easy being able to fit other people’s stereotypes nor did I want to. When filling out the demographic section on school forms I sometimes stumbled on how to answer, was I white, black or other? Who I am goes so much deeper than my skin color, so for a long period of time I tried to avoid the whole “race topic.” Read more>>

Love Yourself First

I know how it feels to look into the mirror and wish that you saw what other girls see, long hair, a size four and a pretty face to match. The world wants to make us believe that we have to have all of those things to be accepted and sadly, most people believe it. I was once a prisoner in my own body.

I hated the way that I looked and I always wished that I were someone else. Growing up I was overweight and one of the tallest girls in my first grade class. Not a day went by that the other children in the class wouldn’t make fun of me. I heard every “fat joke” that there was to tell and they didn’t feel any sympathy for me when I started to cry on the playground.

I never heard any of them tell me they were sorry unless the teacher dragged and apology out of them. My mother was very supportive during this time in my life, she continuously reminded me that I was a beautiful girl and the children at school were just mean. Read more>>