MUST READ.

prettyignorance:

“Which Kandice…the black one with the freckles? Yeah that one!”
…. I seriously used to cringe when people described me, using my freckles as an undeniable way to identify me. It seemed so predictable.. Besides there’s much more to me than the freckles on my face. …Or so I thought. Now that I’m older I’ve realized there absolutely isn’t. Every aspect of my life, personality, and spirit can be closely aligned with these unique ‘sun kisses’ that grace my face. I am as different as I look. It’s crazy actually, because my mother tells me often how as a child she wished for freckles, beige skin, and reddish golden brown colored hair. ..I’m sure she was pleasantly surprised when out of thin air around 6yrs old freckles and ‘that hair’ took hostage of her daughter. Much to my displeasure. I was pissed when she told me she had wished for those ‘Strawberry Shortcake’ features that i got cursed with. Her golden brown skin, and straight black hair I desperately wanted. Now THAT was worth wishing for. As all children experience teasing, having freckles within the black community makes you a clear target for ridicule. You look different. Not like ‘fully’ black girls, yet not quite like the ‘mixed’ black girls. Your the gray area. The bridge between them both, that neither ‘clicks’ want to claim. ..then one day you wake up and love them. Accept them, become the proud owner of this ‘unique’ feature…your trademark. It’s weird when people point them out to me because I don’t even notice them.. They are as much apart of me as eyes, a nose, and a mouth are to a face. Any of them missing and ‘it just wouldn’t look right.’