Growing up, I knew I didn’t fit into the stereotype that people had built up around black girls. I wasn’t loud or “ghetto.” I went to class every day and I always did my homework. Other black people didn’t like that about me. They didn’t like how I talked or how I dressed. To top it all off, they didn’t like how open-minded I was. I didn’t just like black guys – I liked all kinds of guys. I didn’t care about race, but they did.
When black people at my school found out about my attraction to different races, I was bullied and called racist. I didn’t understand how my preference could be considered racist, but to them it was. Every day it was nonstop teasing, and it became really irritating.
It wasn’t just about me liking all kind of guys – it was also about my skin color. Since I’m dark-skinned, I was considered ugly. People would tell jokes about how they couldn’t see me, or they would simply tell me I was just plain ugly. It hurt a lot, and I cried every day.
I used to think my best friend, Mariah, had my back, but whenever people made fun of me, she wouldn’t even stick up for me. Mariah didn’t like that I was interested in guys outside my race. She always told me that something was wrong with me. I quickly realized that she only cared about herself and her popularity, so I stopped being friends with her.
I remember always praying to God, asking him to make me lighter so I could be pretty. But I knew deep down that my skin was never going to change.
I remember when I told my dad that people were making fun of me. I didn’t know what to do, so I turned to him to help me keep my anger in check. I told him why they were making fun of me, and he told me that because I’m black, I have to date black guys. Even my father didn’t support me!
I tried confiding in my stepmom as well, but I should’ve known better. Before I knew it, my stepmom had told her whole family, and they would not leave me alone. They started talking about slavery and how black people fought for their freedom and how I should appreciate it. I understood that, but I didn’t know what that had to do with me! I had never felt so alone in my life.
It was in high school that I first started liking guys outside my race. I always got rejected by them because they didn’t consider me pretty, and I got rejected by black guys for being too dark. It was a very confusing time for me. I didn’t understand how people of my race could blame me for not liking black guys when black guys didn’t even like me! I began to feel like no guy would ever feel attracted to me, and I would be alone forever. It was hard for me to tell guys that I liked them because I hated getting rejected.
I had a crush on a guy in high school named Henry who was Hispanic, but I didn’t tell him I did because I was too scared. Instead, I asked him questions to see if he even liked black girls.
One day in class we started talking about black women, and I asked him, “Do you like black girls?”
“No, because they’re too ghetto,” he replied.
“I’m not ghetto,” I said.
“Yeah, you’re different, but I’m just turned off by them.”
Even though I didn’t tell Henry I liked him, I still felt rejected. It feels like wherever I go, I’m going to always be stereotyped.
I realized that the fault was not mine, and that it was other people’s unfair judgments that left me feeling pigeonholed and confused. I tried to assure myself that if people couldn’t accept that I like all guys, then that was their opinion, not mine.
Even though I accepted that, I still didn’t accept myself. I still thought I was ugly, and that no one would ever like me.
However, with the help of God and my grandma, I have learned to grow more accepting of my appearance. I have begun to appreciate my long black hair, my big dark brown eyes, my smooth skin and my great body. I’ve also realized that it’s not my looks that make me pretty—it’s my personality. My grandma taught me that an ugly personality makes you ugly, not the way you look.
There are still days when I don’t feel great about the way I look, but I’ve learned to shake it off. My grandma also taught me that it’s okay to be who I am and to not be afraid of what people think. Because of her I realized that I can’t please everyone, and if I’m happy with myself, I shouldn’t change for other people’s benefit. I have people who accept me for who I am: my two best friends, Skylar and Joshlyn; my other friends and some of my family members. I appreciate them being there for me.
As far as interracial dating, I still don’t have much experience with that. There have been a few guys here and there, but nothing major. I’m still single, which is fine, but sometimes I do get lonely. I think that God just wants me to wait, and eventually, I will find the right guy for me. I don’t care if others don’t accept it; I do, and that’s what counts. I just hope that someday my family will accept me for who I am, as I have grown to accept myself.
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