I watched her cry. Many nights I tried Just to understand why these Tears fell from her eyes. Who hurt her so much, That whatever started as a joke, Is enough to make her want to commit suicide? She bathes in bleach. Cleansing herself of the day’s struggles. Constantly asking herself how she made it this far. Clawing at her skin. Every night taking a knife to her arms, and legs. Thinking what would make her look just like them. Why can’t painting her skin take away her hurt? Many nights she tried. With all her might, to just fit in with the majority, Even if just for a little while. Without the understanding that her mindset Placed her in the minority. She never understood. Why did they hate her, she asked. Why did God punish her, she constantly wondered. She didn’t know that her skin was the most majestic shade. That being dark gives her power. That the majority really consists of people just like her. Her dark does damage. Her dark can tear this world apart. They called her ugly. But her shade was the most beautiful. It never faded or cracked. They called her dark. But her skin shined more light on this world than they ever could. They called her weak. But her melanin broke walls, that the strongest man couldn’t crack. They called her dull. But her dark can slice through barriers like the sharpest blade. She rises from the ashes like a Phoenix. Flying higher than the clouds. Her dark shining brighter than the sun. They don’t understand her struggle. Living in a shade that rips a race. Living with a darkness that they kill for. And I asked her, Haven’t your parents ever told you that you are beautiful? That cutting yourself doesn’t work because you can’t break color? Hasn’t anyone ever told you, That being dark is not the end. That being dark tells a story of grace, and royalty. And balance. And wisdom. And healing. No one ever told her. So I watched her cry. But I also watched her dry her tears. And walk with a confidence that you wouldn’t believe. And live in a world that hated all of who she is. She is dark. She is strength. She is power. She is woman. She is Fari. A queen who doesn’t have to wear a crown, To have one.
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