Winner of the 2024 Toni Morrison Day Award
As a first grader, I stood smiling at myself in the mirror to freshen up after recess on a warm May day. Beside me stood an elegant blonde with oceanic eyes and porcelain skin, and I became suddenly aware of my dark African features. I felt dismayed. Even now, when I think about beauty, I see the pin straight hair she so effortlessly twirled, and wonder, why can’t I see the same beauty when I look at my tight and kinky curls? When I think of beauty, I think of the stereotypical blonde loved by society. My smooth, dark skin and coarse hair, on the other hand, are known as the African catastrophe. I have a memory of walking in the aisles of Toys R Us with my mother to buy a present for my seventh birthday. The shelves were stacked from floor to ceiling with dolls. There were blonde dolls with ponytails and porcelain skin. There were brunette dolls with long hair and light tan skin. But none of the dolls had my cocoa -colored skin and black corkscrew curls. Looking at my body in the mirror that day I remember wishing white genes were passed down to me. At seven years old, I learned that girls like me will never be perceived as being as pretty. Even now, I ask myself, “Why are only Caucasian girls viewed as beauty queens?” I yearn for the day when society will see that my tawny skin and lustrous ebony curls are as beautiful as that blonde’s pale features, and that I possess magnificent beauty internally and externally, and finally see me just as they see the pulchritudinous white Barbie.