To say the least that I have been inspired by this phrase My Black is Beautiful is an understatement. Submerged in a scholastic auditorium of the arts, I was mesmerized by the overtly palpable and magnetic sound emanating from a young passionate, awe-struck teenaged poetess. My Black is Beautiful she lamented. How often we hear of young girls shunning from the complexities of their rich dark skin. The cries of security and apparent sense of cultural embrace signifies our youth's formative progression. Yes, My Black Is Beautiful.
I can recall the days of my youth where I refrained from nurturing my own mahogany complexion. To me, many years ago, My Black Was Not Beautiful. As a child my yearning for acceptance was always gratified my envisioning myself as one of my white counterparts. Anticipating the warm winter months as my complexion would become brighter and I at once felt a sense of peace and completion. Maybe it's a generational curse but I clearly see the same victimization and shame proceeding from my own sibling. He too now scoffs at his strong ebony traits and threatens the permanent brightening of his skin nearing adulthood. But I must digress, not only is My Black Beautiful it is fully radiant. He too shall see that it's not the color of the skin that defines a person but it is remarkably the character itself. So my feelings of restitution for being comfortable in my OWN skin was again justified as I lounged in the plush auditorium seating staring into the eyes of this young black poetess. She vehemently stressed how proud she was to be black and boldly chastised those who didn't see the glory in claiming her rich roots. Her powerful statement begged to reassure that yes we all have our insecurities but one should never doubt that OUR Black is Beautiful. We come from a long lineage of African-American idols that proved early on that complexion shouldn't dictate your self-worth and level of superiority. It took me a while to accept my own beauty and value and to eventually come full circle to who I am today. So as I watch the young women grow up today I pray that they too shall see the pride and joy that so many have fought to acknowledge and esteem. Now My Black is Beautiful, Our Black is Beautiful, and the world sees that Black is Beautiful.