Underneath these clothes lies black skin.
Black skin of a shade that never appeared on the Top 50 Sexiest List of People Magazine.
Black skin that isn’t even good enough to be objectified in a music video.
Black skin that never appeared on the faces of all those children in the books that taught me how to read.
Black skin that made me truly hope, even pray, that bleaching creams were not a myth.
Black skin that’s been called ugly, disgusting, ashy, repulsive.
Black skin that’s been compared to dirt.
Black skin for which I have been ridiculed.
Black skin with which I was born.
Black skin of which I have been taught to be ashamed.
Black skin that shows no evidence of a soul marred by internalized “-isms.”
Black skin that has taken a lifetime to love.
