aidorekan l os •dianakero l so •

When I was younger, I was the darkest of my family, and of course oh how shameful — it felt for their relative to be dark but also the fucking audacity the illusion of entitlement to comment on my skin.

I never heard the least of it. They’d always sound something a little like this: you’re dark, but you have a beautiful heart!

A smile would suffice… but seconds pass by, and I start wondering.

I found myself speechless As I look down at my arms, stunned that this beautiful smoked honey smooth skin bothered them so very much.

Why was my skin such a disgrace to look at?

It’s almost as if they wanted me to hate myself and how God created me and how the sun doesn’t just kiss my skin but makes love with it.

I spent the entire day at the beach building sandcastles and swimming with absolutely the entire bottle of sunscreen smeared all over my body. Every time I came back home I’d be greeted with faces of disapproval and yelling of how I’ll just keep getting darker.

I would be lying, if I said their words never got to me. I soon started comparing myself to everyone lighter.

I soon started using whitening cream on my face.

I soon stopped playing in the sand and stopped swimming and with all my guts hated the summer.

I have aged 9 years from this person.

I have loved me so past the point of the color of my skin, but in my bones and the blood running through my veins, I am so passionate about this body and this skin and these hips and these eyes and this breath.

I am not regretful for sunbathing so much more than my family. For walking in the sun for hours and feeling so much more life than just my bikini’s tan lines.

But for those who still care enough to tell me not to spend too much time on the beach, Dare I say

You made me love me so much more than I ever would’ve.