To Bleach or Not to Bleach, is there beauty in Dark Skin?


Dark Skin Learners have to go through so much abuse!

I always knew that I was different; how could I have not known if society kept reminding me that I was of a foreign skin colour? that I was not light enough to fit in; and that I didn’t belong with the rest of the kids who had fair enough skin complexion or even lighter complexion? I was always the one who was teased, made to feel indifferent and inferior to the rest of the bunch. I was always the one to be laughed, to be called nasty names and bullied.

Growing up as a dark-skinned kid was very difficult. The going got tougher and at times I felt like I didn’t belong. I had my fair chance of being bullied and shamed. There seemed to be no way to escape the nightmare. Each day when people woke up to a day of possibilities; I woke up to face the harsh reality of the world and mind me, I am talking about the young me. You would be expecting a childhood to be fun filled and exciting but mine was more of a nightmare.  I thought I would get used to it but there was no way I could have gotten numb to such barbaric treatment.

Name calling such as “Mnyamane”, a common discriminatory term for Dark Skin kids

It was hurting me; and nobody really realised it because even people close to me; people I call family joined in on the fun. And there I was drowning while everybody thought I was waving at them. I tried to defend my honour by fighting. If they couldn’t listen to my cry; then they would feel the blow of my fists at least that was what I thought then; but that did not solace the pain because deep down I was still stripped down and torn into pieces each time someone referred to me as Mnyamane.

I prayed and wished it could all stop; but then it continued and dragged far away out of the reach of my hands, beyond my power. I stood and watched as the other kids called me name such as Blacky or Mantso (Mother of Darkness)… the full story on Page 32 here…[ePaper nr=2]