Mom: Strong, Smart, and Fierce

We were sitting in the drop-off lane outside my highschool. I remember that morning clearly because I was frustrated about how I was wearing a winter coat while the world around me was engulfed in the sun's golden glow. I pulled at black marshmellow sleeves and dourly made a note to buy a thin coat the next time I went shopping. 40 degrees in Chicago was nice weather, even if the real feel was tad bit lower.

"Huh." My older sister sat in the passenger seat, wearing a light coat. She watched as a kid slipped out the driver's side of the van in front of us and let his dad take the wheel. He cast a shadow as he strode towards the school. "You realize all the cars ahead of us are black?"

I peered through the windshield. Sure enough, all of them gleamed sable in the morning sunlight. "Huh."

She sniggered. "You fit right in, Nilla."

"Excuse me?" I knew she was joking—especially since she used my nickname—so I played along.

My mom had been stewing silently at the sluggish rate of the line, but now she exploded. "Are you making a reference to her skin? Are you?" She snapped.

"No! It was her jacket. It was her jacket!"

"'Cause if you are, let me tell you one thing: her skin is gorgeous." She surged ahead in line. "Remember this. Your fair skin means nothing—absolutely nothing—if you don't act like a decent person!"

"I was talking about her jacket!"

Outside, the wind was blowing. I barely felt it—I was warm inside.

This is my mom. Fair skinned herself, but loving her kids no matter how they look. Encouraging them to take pride in their own beauty. Teaching her daughters that beauty was more than skin deep—it was about being the best version of you, about being strong, smart and fierce.