FOR ALL THE GIRLS !

05. entry

[ HOW YOU LOVE YOURSELF IS
HOW YOU TEACH OTHERS
TO LOVE YOU !
— rupi kaur. ]

♡

Dear diary,

One of the things I know I'm being petty about is the one thing that I hate about myself for thinking it.

I'm Asian.

Not such a bad thing right? When you think about it, it should be a great thing. I have melanin in my skin, the type that shines against the sun. My hair is dark, just like a beautiful mane, soft and silky smooth. (Although it's a bit unruly these days and I have not been taking care of it. My baby hair has been acting up and when I tie my hair, there's a bunch of hair sticking up like a halo of stupid.)

My mother tells me I have almond shaped eyes, and I know it's true. Apparently they look Arabic, sultry and long. I wonder if that sounds a bit stereotypical. I've seen Arabs and I've seen their eyes and holy hell all of them have gorgeous pairs of eyes. But it's a bit disrespectful when we just say that all their eyes are almond shaped right? Some could have gorgeous round shaped eyes for all I know.

On another note, I wonder if I'm worthy enough to be called a bit beautiful because of my eyes and because they look Arabic. (Again this sounds really disrespectful but I swear, it's a compliment) I've see quite a lot of Arabs. And I've seen quite a lot of Persians and Palestinians as well. They are all beautiful.

Worth trashing my low self esteem even more down.

I don't think being an Asian is a bad thing. Heck I love it. I love being a Buddhist as well.

But at times, when I can't sleep, the thought lingers inside me.

Would I have a sure chance of being accepted if I was Caucasian? Maybe if I was European, had pale white skin (although I despite being quite desi my skin is very white.) and sublime and elegant features, maybe I'd feel better about myself?

Or maybe if I was African, with dark skin and a confidence that could never be shaken, would I have been sure of my acceptance?

Thoughts like these haunt me everyday.

Thoughts like, maybe if I was American and if I lived in LA, I'd have a better chance of being recognized. Better chance of having opportunities.

These are thoughts that make me salty. They make my throat burn and tears threaten to come out.

And sometimes, they do.