For DARKskin Boys

To the DARK skin boys, who didn’t love themselves before their complexion was trending…

To my lost boys who thought they could bleach away their insecurity. Those who were made the black sheep of their family by contrast instead of nature.

To the outcasts, the children of the moonlight, those who were picked last, picked over, pickaninnied— prime victims of the “bad is black effect” more likely to be dehumanized and hyper-criminalized; Who saw scarce representation only rise as high as their self-esteem, and who were told maybe they wouldn’t look so mean if they’d just lighten up- after being teased and taunted to the point of taking refuge in their own shadow

[…to ten-year-old me who wasted countless hours fantasizing about how much better my life would be if I had more of my mother’s pigmentation than my father’s, or if I was more fresh prince than carlton; who wouldn’t even make a created character in my own likeness on a video game, and resented public pool days and UV rays for every summer I got darker]

.......

I write this

for every cringe endured hearing “I ain’t that black!” when someone took offense to being told they resemble you when it was a compliment.

For the victims of flash-less photos

for the resilient who’ve come to realize that being heavily melanated, naturally, is better than being

supplementally augmented and medicated—we are not the ones with the deficiency; We are those who had to grow into our skin before it grew on us

who idolized Wesley Snipes, T.C. Carson, and Sidney Poitier for awakening our confidence, style and poise making coming of age something to look forward to as we matured from little raisins in the sun just wanting to be someone.

On top of the growing pains, we had to prune for this, but the juice we inherited on the other side of puberty was as sweet as kindred berries.

You are not alone in your experience

I, too, have been othered amongst the others, a mislabeled “ugly duckling” who sang my swan song from kitchen obscurity to the table amongst company

But the seating was inadequate so I crafted a throne

I, too, know what it’s like to have to get it out the mud while being convinced you are the mud

To all the mud bone, midnight, indigo twilight, coffee bean and licorice

To those who’ve ever been called “tar baby” by the ignorant who couldn’t comprehend that your soul is cloaked in obsidian… Understand that you’re made from the darkest parts of the universe and the weight of the words meant to bring you down have no gravity there- in your space

........

My dear DARK skin boy

Forged of cast iron and bronze, filled with multitudes and polished with glory

be you inner child or be you yet a man;

You are not too dark. Anyone who dares say otherwise doesn’t have the capacity to appreciate your richness and isn’t worth your peace of mind

The world will try to bury you and call it humility; Dig deeper and build your confidence high enough to stand on with all ten toes down.

You are the oil. Own it.

Let self-awareness be your platform

You don't need pity so decline it, but you do deserve repentance so demand it

And if ever you find yourself in a moment of doubt, I offer you these affirmations to recite:

“I Am Author. I Am Creator. I Am King. Everyone and everything meant for me is compelled by the energy that flows through me. I was crafted in patience and created with purpose. I am continuously evolving. I am the hue in hubris, adorned in opulence. I am the face of God”

Wear them on your lips, your sleeves, your chest, your feet—may they never get weary, may your crown never fall. May you have an infinity of falling in love with who you are and who you’re becoming, dancing in the requiem of a midsummer night’s dream.

I speak over you as I speak over myself

With Love, Peace, Power, Pride and Solidarity,

- Yatta