Unimaginable Grief!

The sum of all my unhappiness, misplacement and anguish have all been the result of about three factors; my hair, my skin color and my rear. The weird phenomenon is, all three fluctuate depending on the climate I am living in. Therefore, it is my belief that there were unclean hands involved surrounding the reasons why I had to relocate to Florida.

While in Florida my skin became chapped, blistered and darkened by the sun. My hair was fried, frizzed and subjected to humidity, where at one point I began resembling Medusa. At first, everything seemed all innocent and a natural turn of events.

However, after much introspection and research, I have found out it was all part of a diabolic plan to put me on the family’s waiting list. You see, in my family the entire ethnicity of the clan is based on one person. That would be my cousin who is extremely fair skinned with green eyes.

If anyone falls below this category, they are shunned, ostracized and put on the indefinite waiting list for all things. The question I constantly ask myself is, “Who died and made her the prototype for the entire familia?”

My life has been a nightmare and hellish because I became too bronzed and I cut my hair so that it would be more manageable. For that, I have experienced unimaginable grief that I cannot begin to describe. I have been accused of misrepresenting my identity, my family has treated me with indifference and reservation, but at no time at all while growing up, did they ever forbid me not to cut my hair or not to lay out in the sun.

They would urge me to be mindful, but they never elaborated that I would be abandoned or exiled if I became too dark or chose to wear my hair in boyish short styles.

While living in the Caribbean as a young child, I often romped in the sun with my cousins, and even tried to soak up the rays. Back then, my family thought it was cute and endearing. Now, that we live in the fair city of New York, they have become pre-occupied with race and ethnicity; every hint of color puts them on edge and makes them anxious.

So, because I was an innocent victim of the Florida sun, my life has been turned topsy-turvy. My critics choose to compare me to every other ethnicity except my own. All my cousins have taken full advantage of my situation to gain leverage, simply because they are bearing the aesthetic characteristics of the family tree.

The fact of the matter is, although they may be displaying the physical attributes, their ways reflect otherwise; and in this new world, actions, speak louder than words and sometimes appearances. Oh, we can lure people by looking picture perfect, but once they are in our clutches, they are able to decipher the real deal.

I am just sick and tired with always having to defend myself as God’s creation. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. If my complexion and hair changes because of the weather, so be it. I am never going to apologize for who God created me to be.

When I was anorexic, folks talked about me being a drug fiend and looking disease ridden. With a little weight on, they continue to hate by insinuating my bum is ethnic looking. First of all, if they were decent folks they would not be looking at my arse!

I have been skinny most of my life and possess a petite frame, yet, when I gain weight, like most women, it goes to the wrong places. In the minds of my naysayers, I am either too skinny, too fat or too inappropriate. You know what?

I really don’t care and I appreciate it, if they keep their assessment of me to themselves. Because it is all fun and games when critics hate on me. But, if I were to dole out their just desserts, I guarantee they would definitely not like the things I have to say.