It’s hard to admit yourself that you’ve ever wanted to be anything by yourself. It’s hard to think of the times where I would run in the playground with my friends only to be told that the boy I liked didn’t like me because my hair didn’t flow in the wind like theirs did. But it’s a reality, one that I don’t think I ever want to come to terms with. I used to think that scrubbing my skin harder in the bath would make me less dark, less dirty. I used to reimagine my life as someone of a lighter tone, or a guy or even better. Both.

Since then I have learned to love the melanin that rests within me. Love the curl in my hair, the darkness of my eyes, the thickness of my lips. Still, I can’t help but wonder sometimes “would this be different if I was white?” And unfortunately the answer is always yes.