THE THING ABOUT PRIVILEGE

As women, society coerces us into believing that we exist categorically, columnized, if you will, into brackets of competition between privilege and then the opposite of privilege. 

What’s alluring about privilege is its ability to grant access.  Where privilege exists, there is the freedom to maneuver between soft and rigid boundaries.  And for women whose

entryway into the world via privilege or denial begins as soon as we are pushed or disengaged from our mother’s womb.  I would argue that access or denial began with colorization for black women. 

“Oh, look how light she is; whose baby is this?” “Oh, look how dark she is; why that baby so black?  Look at that baby’s ears, look at her nail beds, she gone be dark like her daddy.” And then hair, 

skin texture, length, and then weight.  All the prophets show up and begin prophesying and speaking about who and what she will be before taking her first step.  I birthed a brown-skinned girl. 

Simply gorgeous.  I didn’t know anything about what I’m talking about today.  But instinctively, when Chalssie was born, I knew she would have her family to protect her from the world.  From my 

experiences of feeling inadequate in my skin, I knew my baby would understand that her Brown was beautiful.  She would learn from the onset that she was beautiful.  

Her daddy would hold her and sing to her the song Ebony Princess.

“Your eyes are dark as the night
Your skin is tender and golden, Brown
Long bronze fingers hold me oh-so
tight.  You’re so rich in the beauty you deserve;
you’re mine.  That’s why you are my
ebony princess.”  

Our mission was for her to know that she was beautiful in the skin God dressed her.  Our prayer, hope, and most profound desires were to fortify her with a core belief that she was a valuable commodity.  She was worthy of respect, loyalty, friendships, and accessibility to whatever achievement she set her heart and mind.  Pervasively, society’s definition of and picture of beauty eventually bulldozed our walls of protection and ushered in a new set of standards perpendicular to our image and celebration of an ebony princess.  The juxtaposition between what we believe and what we are exposed to socially and emotionally breeds an imposter mentality, where we shrink our individuality and authenticity way down inside to fit into a column of perspectives that promises a checklist of amenities like acceptance and permission to be a part of the community. 

Chalssie grew up to be popular, athletic, and academically sound.  But despite all that access, she doubted her beauty.  What we said wasn’t enough; she had to get to herself to a place of self-preservation.  She had to meet herself in the middle of her road and come to grips with who she would believe.  I am happy to say that she got there.  In her time, after a lot of soul-searching and realizing that she had to define beauty for herself, she overcame.  She knows who she is now.  Her feet are firmly planted in the woman she has become.  The world’s definition of beauty is grossly distorted.  We all are responsible for defining our beauty and worth based on a self-realization standard of truths.  Nothing short of that will ever be enough.