A Tale of Self Hate
Deep shadows surrounded me
“Anger, resentment, and jealousy doesn’t change the heart of others — it only changes yours.”
― Shannon Alder
Who I thought I was
Self-hate was a best friend of mine before I really knew its name. A friend that not only accompanied me daily but also the reason why I searched outside myself to find love. I remember being a kid and hating the lighter-skinned people because in school I was told I’d grow up to be a criminal. Unlike my counterparts who were praised for having “Good Hair” or better complexion by societal standards. Many of these children were always picked instead of me in sports teams and group settings. As a child, this generated deep feelings you don’t quite understand.
In my foster families, I was shown less love and kept apart from the other kids. While they got kisses, teddy bears and called “cute”. I was called ugly and gap-toothed at home and at school. From Compton to LA unified I was beaten up by kids of my own race all of whom weren’t my complexion. In 3rd grade, the self-hate began to grow like a lump in my stomach. Uncomfortable but yet I had no idea what to do about it, so I did what I felt. I started hanging out with the kids that were nice to me and picked me up off the ground.
