Dear black girl,
You have made me the topic of unwanted conversation for many years. Every time I went to school, you would come up to me and ask to touch my hair.
“Is that your real hair?”
“Where did you buy your weave? I know it’s fake.”
“Is your mom white?”
“You are very lucky, you should be careful.”
Once, you yanked my hair to see if it would still be on my head.
You made me very self-conscious about my 3B-C hair. So self-conscious that I would put it in a bun so it doesn’t draw any more attention, or braid it so I look like everyone else.
There is a difference between someone genuinely liking something about you, and someone who is looking at you with jealousy and anger. You were the latter.
I want to say to you that you made me embarrassed for a number of years. Why couldn’t you let my hair be? Other black kids started telling their parents to get weaves sowed in because their 13 year old black friend did it.
I hope you grew up to accept the way you are. To know that you were beautiful. And to not compare yourself with other people.
Because everyone is different.
Wishing you well,