” Yeah.. that’s me.. the darkest person in the picture. I grew up “knowing” that I wasn’t the prettiest. My parents friends would joke “blacky”.. or ask me in Yoruba “ki lo de to se jo okunrin bayi “ ( why do you look so much like a boy). I was told I was short and thick ( it sounds worse in Yoruba).. I was also asked why i looked like my dad. Why wasn’t I light skinned like my mother? So many questions… all somehow directed at making me subconsciously question the way I looked. Over time.. I decided to ignore or compartmentalize those insecurities. I ignored the fact that I was somewhat unrecognizable in photographs or less favored for certain opportunities.
I was never called pretty as much as I can remember. I convinced myself that I was ordinary. Thank God for my sense of humour because I allowed it all dust off my shoulders by joking about it. So as a teenager when a boy said he liked me .. I wouldn’t believe it. Why would he like me when there are others prettier than me? Little did I know that I was far from ordinary. Little did they know.. that I was beautiful… TO UNDERSTAND THE FRUIT WE MUST EXAMINE THE ROOT. Excuse me as I pursue PURPOSE. (Most people won’t understand the “purpose” or meaning of this post/caption.. and that’s ok too)
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