My Natural Hair Journey: Embracing My Black Identity
At the age of seven, I visited my home country, Sudan, where most people are dark–skinned. Before then, I never thought much of my dark skin. I saw it as an organ everybody had. I met my cousins for the first time. The first thing I noticed was the ashy, light brown color of their faces. Their arms were darker than mine yet their faces were almost as light as the sand we stood on. Later, I found out they used a bleaching cream because lighter skin is seen as more beautiful. At a young age, I was taught that my dark skin wasn’t considered beautiful even by those who looked like me. Since then, I started feeling insecure about all my brown parts: dark skin, big lips, and most importantly, my hair.