Brown, bold, and beautiful!

From shame to strength — discovering the power and pride in what we deemed insecurities.

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IZZY SARWAR

BRIGHTON COLLEGE, DUBAI

I used to hate having dark skin. My friends were all pretty. They had pretty hair, pretty eyes, and pretty skin. Why couldn’t I be like them? Why am I like this?

When I was 6, my class had free time if we finished our work. During this time, we all chose to draw. Our teacher told us to draw a family portrait. Having only one pack of pencils for the class, we had to share them. Everyone was passing around the skin colour pencil. Once it got to me, I just stared at it. It was peach. But I’m not peach. Why was I not peach? Why am I like this?

When I was eight, my friends and I played as princesses. I adored Rapunzel and watched Tangled on repeat. I had asked one of my closest friends if I could play as Rapunzel. She told me that I didn’t look like her. She told me that I looked too dark. But if she was my favourite, why couldn’t I be her? “You’re better as Jasmine. Jasmine looks more like you.” Then I thought, I don’t want to be Jasmine. I didn’t like her. Why couldn’t I look like Rapunzel? Why am I like this?

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When I was ten, I was told that I looked tan. I had seen videos online of people with darker skin rubbing off their skin with rubbers. I had decided to copy them and rub off my skin with a pencil rubber. My friend saw me doing this during class and called me weird. But she wouldn’t understand. She was already pretty. Why couldn’t I be like her? Why am I like this?

When I was eleven, my friend had travelled to Maldives with her family. She came back and her skin was more tanned, and it was noticeable. She came back and constantly checked her tan lines. She confided in me that it was so horrible to look dark. But I was darker than her. Am I horrible to look at? Am I not meant to be dark? Why am I like this?

Now that I am 13, I realise that being brown was a blessing, not a burden. If younger me could see me now, she would see that the same skin she felt insecure about is now something she presents with pride. The deep history in my roots, and the resilience that comes with it, are things to celebrate. No more worrying about being “too dark” or wishing to blend in. Brown skin tells a story, and carries generations of strength. If only younger me knew that the very things she once wished away would become her greatest source of confidence.