Somewhere in the world there is a girl. A black girl, natural curls and all. Somewhere is this big, bad world she will grow to believe she is not beautiful. She will grow to become consequence of hate embedded culture, she will grow to become a “lost black girl.” Somewhere in the world, there is me.
I am a lost black girl.
Overwhelmed with expectations of my girlhood and blackness, I began to erase parts of myself. When my blackness was defined as rough and loud, I made myself scarce. When my blackness was defined as broken English and illiterate mantras, I read and I spoke so eloquently that no one would ever question my intelligence and wit. When I believed that dark enough was too dark, I stopped going outside in the summer. All these things led me to stray away from the best things about myself.
And beauty? That was a lost cause. I started to settle for being, “pretty for a black girl.” I didn’t understand my curves or my thick, bushy hair. I didn’t understand my dark skin. I didn’t understand that these were things to be celebrated, to feel good about. I thought that hair relaxer was the only way for my white friends to accept me. I wanted to be like them, to look like them. I didn’t know that this misogynoir was creeping up on me my entire life. It was like everyone could see that trap door but me. I found that I was fully and utterly, a lost black girl.
But I found something better. Upon searching for my personal afflictions, I found Maya Angelou, I found Cupcake Brown, I found all the black women who came before me. I found Viola Davis, and I found Beyoncé, the black women who are here with me today. The best thing that they have taught me was that I will forever live in a culture that doesn’t love my 4c hair, that doesn’t love my dark skin, that doesn’t love me. They taught me that the world will chew me up and spit me out and treat me like I am the gum on their shoes. But despite all of this, the only thing I can do is learn to love myself. Your self love will be hard work in itself, as it will get you so far.
So this, is to all my lost black girls: take your time. Don’t wait for the world to love you, let you love you. Your blackness is never defined to one shape or form. You are a byproduct of beauty and hatred, but you must learn to live with that. To this day, I am still learning to live with it. I am still a lost black girl. But the best education I have ever been given wasn’t learned in a classroom, but rather, as a consequence of my self love.
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