I don’t care, though.
I love myself the way I am,
But a lot of other girls unfortunately do care.
They end up resorting to extreme measures to make their breasts socially acceptable,
Even though it’s nobody’s business how large one’s chest is.
Some cultures consider small breasts to be beautiful.
But of course, people here refuse to accept anyone different.
They insist on bullying them!
My family was always very critical,
And they tended to make fun of people.
I was born with flawed joints.
I could walk very well and run and all that,
But when I stood,
My knees bent backward,
At first sight, it looked like my legs had been amputated.
My family always called me “Miss knees,”
And my mother always made fun of me in front of my siblings.
She thought I was inverting my knees like this on purpose.
She once even called me “disabled,”
And told me to straighten my knees.
Imagine that you’re a teenager, 13 years old, and you’re mocked nearly every day at school
because you weigh too much.
On top of that, imagine some of the stupid things that your classmates and teachers say,
social stigma, social pressure, masculinity, bullying, body image
The boys were scared of me;
They’d run away from me and yell,
“She’s going to eat us!
Don’t piss her off because she’ll eat you if she’s hungry!”
body image, bullying
These are some of the comments I’ve received:
“Mophead!”
“Cuckoo!”
“The girl with disgusting hair.”
“Her hair is ugly.”
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards
“Do you have good or bad hair?”
I get this question all the time from everyone around me.
But I’ve never mustered up the courage to reply.
So I tell them: “Yeah, my hair isn’t straight.”
Despite my family’s efforts to convince me that I had nice hair as a baby,
All of the kids at school were skilled in the art of bullying.
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying
I always thought I was adopted,
Or maybe I wasn’t their daughter….
I’m the eldest of my siblings,
I was born normally,
With olive skin and curly hair.
But I was seen as dark-skinned, ugly, and with coarse hair.
Things got worse when my younger sister was born three years later.
She was born with pale skin and straight hair.
I hugged my friend out in public because he needed it, and because I needed it too.
When I heard the comments, I pulled away from him by saying, “What’s this? You’re crying?”
But I had wanted to keep on hugging him until he had let it all out.
I wanted to hug him without fearing or worrying what passersby would say.
I had thick hair as a child.
I hated how much it hurt when my mother washed, brushed, or braided it.
I could never wear it down like my sister, who had beautiful straight hair.
One time at the beach, when I was 15 years old, a tourist stopped and asked me,
“How do you make your hair curly like that?”
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying