thoughts on clouds

the darker the berry the sweeter the juice

Hi,My name is Tumi, though the majority of people that know me call me Mary. This is just another way I've been taught to hide who I am in order to feel accepted. Being at the ripe old age of 14 (and 349 days) , I can't claim to have gone through many 'serious' hardships in my life. Most of my battles have been personal and most of my battle scars hidden. I am 5'5, I am a girl, I am a student. None of these facts ever seem to matter much when it comes to fitting in for me. I am also what I guess most people would call - dark skin; that's a whole different story. My childhood leading up to secondary school was quite average, I had the occasional bumps the occasional stumbles. I was blissful. Then came the storm called secondary school. It was here at the tender age of 11 I learnt that kids could be cruel, here I learnt to hate the colour of my skin. Being a person who already struggled with social anxiety I wasn't exactly excited to be introduced into this new environment. I knew it would be hard. What I didn't know is that from the day I was born I was branded with this label of being dark skin. I didn't know all the names kids could come up with all synonymous to ugly it seemed. I didn't know that being dark was wrong and disgusting. I didn't know none of the boys would ever find me pretty because I was too dark. I didn't know the pigment of my skin was a joke to people. I didn't know no black boy would ever want to marry me because they didn't want their children to carry the same burden I did. The burden of being ugly . The burden of being ugly because I was dark. I didn't know this coming straight out of primary school. But I learnt and boy did I learn quick. I learnt to hate myself. I learnt to cry at night in the bathroom with a pillow to my mouth so my mother wouldn't hear. I learnt to tear at my skin wishing I could peal off every last strip of it. I learnt to feel like I was born wrong. Like I would never ever be enough and I was god's mistake. I learnt that words can hurt more than bullets. I learnt all the jokes , every single one I can recall off by heart. From 'blick' (to this day i despise that word) to 'nigga' to 'charcoal' to "oh where's Mary hahah she disappeared" when the lights turned off. Hilarious. I heard every laugh and with each chuckle another weight was added to my shoulders. I didn't know any better but to believe in all of this. They told me 'suck it up' ,'take a joke' like my self confidence was a toy fashioned for their entertainment . Sometimes I laughed along. I thought that would take the pain away. Sometimes I said nothing at all. It didn't stop the feeling in the pit of my stomach of wanting to die. The feeling that I did not belong in this world, how could something so wrong and ugly exist in this society? It must be true if they say so. Right? Slowly I fell into a vat of depression and anxiety that to this day I can say haunts me . I do not look in mirrors. I can not look in mirrors without seeing mistake written all over every bit of my body. I am now in year 10. I will be 15 in about two weeks. Nothing will change the experiences I went through and the negative reactions I had to Negative people. Nothing will change the words said , the nights spent crying. But my mind has changed. Today I woke up , looked in the mirror and said to myself - "they were wrong." I refuse to listen to what I've been taught. I refuse to let the hate dished out by others so easily ruin my life. I refuse to continue crying about not being good enough. I am good enough. Although I do not really see myself as beautiful I know that dark is not a synonym for ugly. Dark is strong, Dark is pure, Dark is powerful. And I wish someone had told me this when I was suffering - Dark is beautiful.