I’ve been the Black friend for as long as I can remember. I grew up in white spaces struggling to proudly wear my cocoa butter skin among people who didn’t know how to see my value. At our Southern Baptist school, racism towards me was wrapped in good intentions, “biblical truths”, and “my parents just want what’s best for me” types of foolishness.
I was sweet, quiet, and easy-going, which didn’t fit the stereotypical Black person my peers saw on TV or barely interacted with in real life. To them I was different; I was educated. Good enough to be friends with, but to date? You already know the answer to that, Sis.
Sixth grade was the first time a white boy was bold enough to ask me to be his girlfriend. Whispers buzzed all through our middle school. He was a sweet kid and genuinely cared for me, but according to his mom (and some of our peers) the Bible didn’t allow whites and Blacks to date or marry. She used one of those Old Testament verses that so many people in the South believed, one you had to twist and squeeze and read with both eyes closed to get the tainted version. Needless to say, he was the last person to ask me out for the remainder of middle school and all throughout high school.
A few of my peers, their parents, and some of our teachers were not shy with their ignorance, either:
- “Would your mother allow you to date a white boy?” asked my friend’s mom.
- “The KKK was better known for helping battered women and providing resources for single parent homes,” claimed my economics teacher.
- “You live in the hood, so I’m not coming to your house.” (Even though our private school was one block up the street.)
- “It’s ok if I date him cause he’s mostly white.”
- “Well Black people aren’t suffering now, so why are they still complaining?”
- “You can stay over at my house, but my mom doesn’t want me staying over at yours.”
While we were memorizing scriptures to be more Christ-like, my peers were also learning how to determine someone’s value based on their racial and gender identities. As we grew older, it was clear which homegrown values were sticking and which verses on equality and love were being left behind.
These childhood experiences with racism were placed in my memory box but forcefully opened again during the last couple of years of racial and political tension. Like a broken dam, the waters came rushing in over my head, reminding me that no matter how much self-love I have, how accepting I am of others, or how ‘educated’ I speak, my skin is still a target for hate.
During this time, I tried reaching out to some friends for support only to be told that “everyone goes through hard times” and “white people deal with racism too.” I became disheartened when it seemed like those who claimed to love me were unbothered by the beliefs and systemic barriers used to devalue me and other minoritized groups. A deep loneliness nestled its way into my mind as those who were supposed to be there for me could easily dismiss my pain.
Part of the church continued to ignore the cries of the oppressed, praying to the blue-eyed, blonde-haired God they had made in their own image. But I decided to dig into this faith I grew up in. I pulled back every layer of theology I could find. I questioned this God who seemed to have an issue with my Blackness and my nerve as a woman to use the voice He gave me.
After two and a half years of unraveling my faith, I found God was nothing like the Americanized version from my childhood. Instead, I found a humble spirit who wants oceans and rivers of justice, who stands and identifies with the mistreated immigrant, the fatherless, and those silenced by racism, misogyny, and all other forms of oppression. And this son of God, who was born into poverty and whose race would have made him a victim of the Holocaust and antisemitism in America, chose to identify with me and you.
This book that was weaponized against me now lavishes me with dignity. Though many try to rewrite its pages to fit their prejudices, they cannot erase the truth that the oppressed and marginalized are seen and heard all throughout its story. It is our story.
Over the years, I’ve had to unlearn many lies about my worth as a Black woman. I’ve learned to live and breathe easier in white spaces while also making it a priority to find diversity. I’ve found safe friends who truly see and hear me. As I continue to learn how to love every part of me, I hope my journey can encourage you to do the same.
Wear your shades of cocoa proudly, let your kinks and curls flow, and make your voice heard. For you are a woman of dignity—made in the image of One who takes the burdens off your shoulders and carries them as His own. Your skin is not a mark of shame, but of bravery, faith, and a hell of a lot of grit and grace.
Sis, what does dignity mean to you? Where do you still struggle to believe you are worthy?
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My goodness, Shari. Thank you thank you thank you! It’s taken me so long to “unlearn” the harm I’ve internalized and it matters to talk about it. Thank you for your vulnerability.
Thank you, Mercedes! Unlearning the harm is a journey. So glad we don’t have to walk it alone.
Beautifully written.
Thank you, sisssy!!
This was so beauty, transparently written. You speak for so many of us! Our skin connects our hearts; our faith connects us to freedom.
Thank you, Latoya! So glad a piece of my story can resonate with others.
Awesome
Thank you!
Shari,
I love the way you’ve told your story! Excellent beyond words!!
Well written and as beautiful as YOU ARE 💕
I have always “seen you” and will continue to see you! Being seen is a struggle for sure…especially for Black women in white spaces. I’m glad you found the courage (you are strong) and faith to write this for Mahogany, and be seen your way.
Peace and caring 💐
Thank you, Auntie! Love you!!
This was awesome! That you for your truth! I love your story! Your greatness! Your proudness!
Thank you!!
This is beautifully written and through a lens so many young black girls can relate to. Thank you for being so vulnerable in this space which encourages others to do the same.
Thank you so much, Michelle!
Wow!! So many things I never knew you were going through. I am so proud of the woman you have become even through the ignorance. Thank you for sharing your story and loving your blackness out loud!
Thank you, Sissy!! That means a lot coming from my big Sis. 🙂
Shari, you were created to write, beautifully written.
Thank you so much, Ms. Debra!
Wheeeeeewwwwwww this is the story of my life Shari!!! I remember counting the black kids on one hand in my classes at the Christian school I attended for 10 years, never having a black teacher until 8th grade,
Slavery being justified and downplayed, only learning about the peaceful blacks, not being allowed to challenge the Christianity interpretation of history, white boys not liking me and the black boys only liking the white girls… FREEDOM
Thank you, Cuz! Your experiences sound so familiar. Praying things continue to change for the younger generation.
Shari, this is a beautifully written article!! You are truly gifted from God!!! Thank you for sharing your story and refusing to live in silence!!
Thank you so much, Deondra!
Thank you for sharing your story!
Thank you, Cuz!
Shari… your story struck a very familiar chord with me! I had similar experiences as one of a VERY few Black students in my Catholic schools. What we now call microaggressions were standard practice back in the day. I’m sure the priests, nuns and parents I encountered thought they were being benevolent in their reactions and interactions with me. But it left me with deep scars inside.
Thank you for sharing your story!
Jan
Thank you for sharing a piece of your story, Jan! I hope you have been able to heal from those experiences. Your worth outshines each one!
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR this “Eye-Opening” truth that we live on a daily basis. I almost cried, but instead…I’ll carry on.
Thank you, Gailmarie! So glad my story touched you in some way.
I’m so honored to know you and learn from you, Shari. Thank you for telling it like it is. And thank you for helping our world understanding the TRUE HEART of Jesus. It is amazing how we as Christians can get so far away from his truth and mission. I was honored to be your first grade teacher. I grieve over all that you suffered. And I am humbled that you invited me back in to hear your story from your adult perspective. Thank you so much. Philippians 1:20
Thank you so much, Ms. Jen 🙂
Shari, I’m so proud of the woman you have become. You’re speaking so many truths that needed to be said about the black woman experience. Continue on your spiritual journey and constantly dig for spiritual treasures and they will be revealed.. Proverbs 2:4-5
Thank you, Auntie!!
Shari, thanks for sharing ur story without apology and with grace and redemption! I stand with you sis. Much love.
Thank you, Tabi!