You guys, help!!!!!

Seriously I’m done with my mom. I don’t her next to me, hear her voice nor talk to her; I just want her outta my life. She just degrades me 25/8; just because I’m dark skinned and I’m not using whiteners, using lighter foundation, shaping my eyebrows and wearing weave like other girls! because I believe in embracing the true person I am and how I look. other than making me a coconut she wants to peel my skin. 

what should I do???!!!!

I just want to cry. I live in a country where it diminishes any possibility of growing an independent soul. fuckers just using islam to get their shit done!

Ugly*

     I was born. I was 60% prone to cutie pinches; I was a cushion filled with fat- cute like every single baby that is born, AND I was dark. I can’t lie, looking at my old pictures I wasn’t an ugly child, but everyone back then thought so. All what I see in my pics is a spontaneous, ambitious, fun, social little girl who wanted to be friends with everyone and to be loved and cherished— showing it shamelessly unlike her 20 yro version. But that poor thing was brought up in the wrong society and family. A society that ambushed her; killed any bit of self-respect and outcasted her for being herself and not complying to their self-approved, accepted standards of how a young girl should be and look.

     Besides being dark, I had a big forehead (shout out to all Somali foreheads! wot! wooot!), prominent teeth, chubby body and other body defaults. However, I never thought of myself being ugly until… There was this game the girls at my school used to play, and what the game was about is choosing the best looking ones to join your house. It was my first time playing it. You could tell I was excited. I was watching the girls being chosen one by one until it ended up that I was the only one left. That’s when it hit me. It wasn’t the first time being called indirectly ugly there were previous times whence I was insulted and looked down. but this time is when I realized it to the guts; to the sole core. 

And the self-hatered episodes started.

*It is not a professional writing; it is just me writing about my wounds.

Mom: Your cousin’s wedding is around the corner; use this whitening cream, brighten that skin of yours.

Yep! that is what my mom said.

I had a good day today, I have the finals coming up; I just finished a subject— relieved! I had lectures cancelled— whoowoo! double the joy. Ate a double burger, no regrets. Then My mom comes up to me and and said what she said, a typical act of her. she just ruined my day. 

I am a dark skinned girl; I’ve come to accept it. Yes, it took me 12 hard years of humiliation and pain— but I’ve come to accept it. Through those painful years I had no support no one who would accept me for who I am. And I’ve come to conclusion that my mom, my parents actually, love me for being their child, being of their genes, but not for the person who I am; not my thoughts; principles; values and how I look. Therefore, I had no support of the closest people I have.

I still have a minute believe that I look better with lighter skin, yet reality contrasts and I’m living with it. 

My parents constant pointing on how my skin is dark, and how I look like a country side person (as a persons who never took care of themselves due working to provide the essential life necessities) or in other words, a farmer. My self-esteem was completely killed; my respect for myself was nonexistent. I hated myself; loathed it. believed I didn’t deserve to speak; to have fun nor to enjoy anything.

I need a hug.

Poor me wallahi.

When you feel insecure and fragile in your own home, within your family, who are ignorant of your sadness, yet they are the caustives? Homeless and depressed.

To the 10 year old me,

Sorry, my 10 year old me. I let you down big time. I wish I could hold you; condole you. I am utterly sorry for not fulfilling your dreams. Making everybody hate you, when you wanted to feel beloved and warmth. Sorry, for not being beautiful, as you wished to be; as you held your hopes in days to become prettier and more elegant. Sorry, for not being that smart; that genius; that wise person you wanted to be. Sorry, for not having principles nor values to live on life. Sorry, for not having a supporting family. Sorry, for not having true friends and you having a rather dull personality; having a low self-esteem. I remember the nights you cried yourself yourself to sleep because you thought that those tears may wash out your dark face. Sorry, for noy accepting your true self; oppressing your desires; killing that hope you had in Allah and every good bit on you. Sorry, for everything. I let you down big time