Some people at university would compliment my skin tone and ask me,
“How do you get so tan?”
I would tell them that it wasn’t a tan.
It was my skin color.
I thought they were making fun of me,
And that something was wrong with me.

My hair grew out very dry and curly.
Mama didn’t know how to deal with it.
She tried oils and creams.
My hair was in braids all during my childhood.
I never let my hair down.
I never felt the wind in my hair.
My maternal aunts made fun of me
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying, hijab

I was never loved when I was a kid,
Because of my skin tone.
It was light brown,
But people liked to judge by appearances.
They’d always look at me at school,
As if I were different,
Until I started believing it.

My mother only likes straight hair.
She’d always straighten our hair, using various gels and keratin.
She wanted to straighten it in any way possible.
hair, bullying, beauty standards, body image

I’m very handsome,
Thank God.
But I was very thin as a teenager,
Which made my facial features look big,
Especially my lips.

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.

During an awards ceremony at school, the principal refused to shake hands with me. 
Even though she greeted and congratulated all the others. 
“What’s wrong with your hair?” she said.
“I wish you’d brush your hair for once,” she used to tell me whenever she’d see me. 
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying