There was a time when I used to be embarrassed of who I am.

Embarrassed to walk the halls full of people with fair skin and flowing hair.

All while feeling like I was being punished,

Punished with this rough hair that stayed put when I myself moved,

With this dark brown skin and the oppression that came with it.

The oppression of various stereotypes that cannot be broken,

Feeling like I was punching walls in an attempt to crack this cliche image.

The oppression of being titled a ‘fake black’ for being educated,

Feeling like I was talking to walls in an attempt to change the single story.

The oppression of feeling like I was different from everyone

All because of what I was, not who I was.

The sinking feeling of loneliness also lingered,

Bringing along the taste of bitterness and making the world around me less colorful.

My mother, a single-parent struggling to give her daughter the best future possible,

Didn’t have much time for small-talk or lighthearted questions.

She had no time for talk about the weather or politics.

She didn’t much care for how my day was unless I had a big test.

She didn’t much care for what my weekend plans were as long as I did my homework.

She didn’t much care for why I was crying as long as I felt better afterwards.

All she cared for was my bright future and happiness.

She believed she knew what to say and how to handle every situation,

But found herself in awe, not knowing how to handle the situation at hand. 

After a long time of loud silence, she told me,

“You are human like all those other kids.

You may be different from them,

But you are not different because of the rough texture of your tangly hair

You are not different because of the dark pigmentation of your skin

And you are not different because of our single-parent house.

However, you are different because of your endless hair style options.

You are different because you can have straight ponytail, frizzy afro, or a simple tight big bun.

You are different because you can have a perfect skin complexion without tanning.

At last, she told me something that I will never forget.

She got down on one knee, looked me straight in my eyes,

And with tears filling her eyes she said,

“This world, these people,

They will force you to become a woman 

Before you have time to enjoy being a little girl.”

And as one tear rolled down her left colored cheek, she continued

“So what if you’re different? 

Just don’t let this change you.

Don’t let their cruel jokes make you bitter.

Don’t let them their criticism make you feel ashamed.

Don’t let the stereotypes hold you back from success.

Be strong, be happy, be aware, be proud,

...Be different.”