The Inquisitive Black Girl


Scrolling through the pages of a beauty magazine, I look for a couple hair styles to switch up my image, but I can’t find anyone who looks like me, has hair like me, because it really seems that these days, being me isn’t what people really want to see.

Maybe a lighter version of me would look better. Maybe if I had different hair, I would fit your mold and societies mold, because that’s really what I’m being told even if I’m not directly being told these things.

Why is my big hair, my wild, frizzy, mind of their own curls so unpresentable?

Why is the very hair that many black women have seen as their biggest embarrassment. Yes weaves, wigs, extensions are used for different reasons, but for many it’s a way to hide from who they really are. Why is bone straight and wet and wavy the only styles considered beautiful? Why is 4b and 4c hair considered to be untamed and “not good hair”?

Why is my skin not fit for the magazines? When they do finally chose to show someone of color it’s not actually representative of all blacks. Maybe throwing a dark girl in the magazine would ruin the aestetic, and if that is the case, why?

Why is it that butterscotch and caramel skin completions are considered to be so much prettier than chocolate and mocha? Why is black not beautiful unless it’s mixed?

And don’t be so confused as to think this is simply a white on black issue. It’s a black on black issue too. It’s colorism.

Why has it become a trend that when asked what race, many blacks will go above and beyond to link themselves to some other race outside of black just to fit in? Or maybe its to feel superior to someone who is fully black, knowing good and well that they are fully black too.

As if to say that being black isn’t one of the most beautiful things on earth. As if being black is something to be ashamed of. That our history wasn’t a key factor in make us who we are today. That being black makes us less than perfect, less than desirable.

Why is black skin associated with something bad? Why is it that you look at us, only see our skin color and from there can decide whether we’re pretty or not? Whether we match up to your expectations?

And why is it when we find the courage to stand up for us and believe that we are beautiful we’re deemed too proud, too bold, too ignorant, etc?

Well, I’ll always be too much of something to some people, everyone will, and I can live with that. But fortunately we were just enough for God. He didn’t make any mistakes when he created me, or when he created you. He didn’t accidentally paint us black. Black isn’t a punishment. Being dark isn’t a problem. Having course hair isn’t a curse.

It really is the blessing to be black and living in America today. It’s to be the solution they thought was the problem. It’s to be made in the image of God like every other race in this world. It truly is beautiful.

I say this as the half Nigerian and half Kenyan American I am today. I wouldn’t trade my features for the world, no matter how unruly the world might think they are, because to tell God that He made a mistake on me would be blasphemy.