EXCERPT // IMAGERY
Occupation: "Movement Artist"- professional dancer, teacher & choreographer
Hobbies: Painting/drawing, acting, reading books & journal writing, fashion styling, traveling; also really enjoy creative collaboration with other artists.
I When I graduated from high school and went to college, my experiences with colorism became louder. I began to accept pure shit, especially from men. I let people put their own price on me instead of assigning my own to myself because I just didn’t know what it was. No one told me to be proud of who I was, how I looked, or my skin complexion. Of course my grandparents always told me how pretty I was and all that, but when you’re a teenager, everything you hear from your family is expected. You think, “That’s what they’re supposed to say.”
I’ve faced colorism my entire life, and in turn, I am constantly figuring out what it really means to love myself. Most days, I just don’t feel it. It is a constant battle within myself and with the outside world—a world that constantly strives to make me feel like I need to compare myself to others. Within the Black Community, we are constantly comparing ourselves, especially as women. We have divisions like light-skin vs. dark-skin. We categorize certain behaviors as “acting light-skin” or “acting dark-skin.” What the hell does that even mean? We put so much pressure on each other, it’s no wonder there is a self-love shortage.