The Misadventures of an Awkward Black Girl

   For years many people would ask me why am I so self conscious about my body and for years I never knew how to answer the question. Than a couple weeks ago it hit me all at once. My friend and I went to a restaurant called Heritage and happened to see an old highschool friend who didn’t recognize me at first. Then it finally hit him and he said “ OH! You’re the girl with the rocking body who hid it under the long skirts?!?!” I was so upset by that statement because all throughout high school that’s all that I was known for. It pissed me off because I was apart of soooo many extra-curricular activities (and by so many, I mean all), I had amazing grades, I was in all the musicals, and all I was known for was my “rocking body”???? Seriously???  After pondering that terrible encounter I began to think about the many times other students felt the need to mention my body. The many times I was sexually harassed, the many times the male students has tried to touch me or rate my body. I also started thinking about past encounters with all males in general and how I reacted towards them. From strangers, to friends, to family members, to crushes, and even the first guy I’ve ever fallen in love with. I realized then that I was not really self-conscious but that I hated my body and was terrified of having a “rocking body” because in my heart I knew that all I would be known for was my looks, my body, and not the things that make me who I am.

I am terrified of the night because I’m afraid that someone will want to take advantage of me. I fear being cat called while walking down the streets minding my own business. I fear relationships because I will wonder the whole time if they only like me for my body and that’s it. It has come to the point in my life where I have this rule that if after a couple weeks of getting to know the guy I would ask them what do they like the most about me. Every time so far the three things the majority of them would say is that they like me because of my smile, because I’m pretty, and have a nice body. And after receiving those messages, those PoBo’s (potential boos) were no more.

To the many strangers that has looked my way and felt the need to touch me, cat call me, hit on me, or slut-shamed me for ignoring them: You are trash.  

To the friends who reminded me of my beauty not just on the outside but my personality: thank you for the love and support. For allowing me to be my weird self and sticking with me through everything.

To the family members who tries my patience constantly from slut shaming me, to making me feel self conscious, for claiming my clothes are too tight, or too revealing, or who constantly tells me that my body will soon fade away: Build up the confidence of your daughters. Help make them feel good about themselves. They will have many people tell them terrible things about their body or they will be called derogatory names that makes them feel like crap. The last thing they need is to hear it in their own household as well. Don’t treat them the way you’ve treated me. Also teach your sons how to treat women and tell them that women are not sexual objects and that they are human beings and should be treated as such. Teach them respect. Also I forgive you, not that you apologized or anything, but I forgive you because I’m over it.

To the first guy I’ve ever fallen in love with: I am good enough. You’re insane for not seeing it. I am pretty, I will find someone better. And I am worth it. I am worth the wait.

To my future crushes: I am not a sexual fantasy, I am not some weird fetish you want to try out. I am not a body count, I am not a number on your who you should bang list, I am not a trophy, and last but not least, I am NOT DEFINITELY NOT YOUR CHOCOLATE DROP OR YOUR AFRICAN QUEEN. Call me that and I will swerve the crap out of you so fast you won’t even know what hit you. Also good luck because I’m a handful (don’t say I didn’t warn you)