I had the privilege of viewing the documentary “Dark Girls” by the multifaceted filmmaker Bill Duke and I cannot express enough how moved I was by this movie. This blog will not be a critique because I will never critique anything that is meant to call attention to a subject matter that needs to be challenged!!! Plus, I believe it to be imperative that we stop criticizing and simply support!!  Anyone that has the courage, the genius and the perseverance to produce material that is meaningful to them should never be shunned. Yes, I choose to support every worthwhile project out there with my whole heart but hey,I digress, that is another blog. LOL!

This movie told the story of my brown skinned sisters plight dating back to slavery days of feeling inferior because of their color. They have been called mud ducks, tar babies, and and some have to endure the insult of supposedly being pretty for a “black” girl.  It is disgusting, hurtful and very sad that after over two centuries, not much has changed. The movie included many different perspectives and candid dialogue about light versus dark skinned african americans. These feelings, ideals and hurtful comments are often instilled in us often birth by our own family members. I want you to see the movie, so I will not give you a synopsis beyond that but I will give you my perspective because after all, this is my blog!!  Ha! http://officialdarkgirlsmovie.com/

I first heard about this movie several, several months ago. As an aspiring writer, it has always been in the back of mind to devote one of my novels to just this topic. When I received the email from my home church, The Fountain of Praise, in Houston, I emailed and reserved tickets and sent out invites to my friends. There was no way I was missing the opportunity to hear such a powerful message, to gain a better understanding and support an issue that has also caused much hurt and pain throughout my entire life.

However, my hurt is a different hurt altogether. My hurt and pain stems from being the light skinned sister who was the supposedly the house nigger during slavery, whose skin color supposedly makes other races more comfortable to be around than my fellow brown skinned sisters and brothers. I am the cliche often referred to and desired in today’s trashy rap songs. Let me say this, there are two sides to every story and I am anxiously awaiting Bill Duke’s next documentary “The Yellow Brick Road” which hopefully tells my side of the story.

The same way my brown skin sisters have hated their color, I have hated my color. I am very fair skinned, my skin is hard to tan and my hair is naturally curly. When it is relaxed, it is as straight as a caucasian’s and referred to as “good hair”, a term that makes me cringe. I have felt more discrimination from my own race, than I have from any other race. Much to my surprise, this was also brought out in the documentary where brown skin women felt there skin color was more celebrated by other races than their very own. I have a hard time understanding this ignorance.

For a good part of my life, I hated my skin color, was tired of attention being brought to my light eyes and spent years hiding my shape. I always felt like a piece of meat when I walked in the room, just waiting to either be slaughtered by my sisters or devoured by my brothers. I so wanted for everyone to get to know me but I was too busy fighting sisters who chose to try to jump me without even knowing me, ignoring brothers who were just in my face for the wrong reasons and hiding everything that made me a beautiful, BLACK woman. There are not many outside of my mother and sister who know this about me, not even my closest friends. I can recall spending most of my time downplaying my looks in order to help my sisters feel better about themselves and help them understand that I did not consider myself superior. I remember one friend who hated me on sight at first, telling me she specifically hated me because I was light skinned and had long hair but once she got to know me, I was ‘okay’ for a light skinned girl. Isn’t that sad?? I was just ‘okay’ but yet, I forgave her and still called her a friend regardless because it is ingrained into me to treat everyone as equal.

This so called slave mentality is absolute bullshit. I don’t want to hear that it is lack of education because we now have the internet damn it and you don’t have to attend a university to simply become educated in the fact that it is INSANITY to have such a divide in the black, African American, whatever race you want to call us. Let me tell you, I am so sick of being hated on before you even get to know me. I hate the assumption that I feel I am better than a brown skin sister because I am light skinned. I hate everyone assuming I am creole and that is why I am light skinned. Uhhh, I am mixed with Arapahoe Native American and proud of it. My grandmother on my father’s side was very, very fair with coal black hair and blue eyes and I have been told I take after her. So you see, I am hated on without anyone even taking the time to know my story.

That little girl who craved acceptance, hardened over the years and grew into her own. I celebrate everything about myself, not because I am light skinned, not because I have that cliche lool, because I am a beautiful, BLACK woman who knows who she is, where she is going and I set my own rules. I no longer worry about being hated on for my looks because that is their problem, not mine. This crutch in the African American society does not exist to me. It is just an excuse to be lazy and not work to embrace your uniqueness, your beauty, your flaws and end this nonsense. If you are not accepted at work because of your skin color, go find a different damn job. If you are passed over by a brother because he preferred a lighter skinned woman, hell, you didn’t want his superficial ass anyway. If you want straight, long hair, weave it up and keep it moving!!! No, we have no more excuses for this and the last time I allowed this to affect me was in my early 20’s. I remember going to a new hairstylist who I had spoken to on the phone.  Over the phone, she was sweet and kind but the moment she saw me, she was rude, surly and downright nasty to me. I complained to her manager and remember being so hurt at first and then I got angry.  I vowed that this would be the last time this crap was going to affect me and it never has since then.  I pride myself on being nothing but transparent and real. If you can’t handle who I am, we have this lovely thing called freedom of choice that allows you to get the hell out of my face and stay out of it.

Yes, I had to see this movie! Is this the end of my blogging about this topic, nahh, but thank you Bill Duke for opening a dialogue concerning this issue that plagues our community. I took my mother and my girlfriends with me because it meant that much to me. I will be supporting Bill Duke by sending a huge donation to help him as he used his own funds to finance this movie. I gave this movie a standing ovation at the end of it that night I watched it but even at that, I am still saddened. I am sad because when I left, the divide was still there. It was a small dent in a universal problem that needs to be stopped and stopped now. I have a daughter with my skin color that I am raising to simply start off where I am now, confident, accepting and open to all races. I never want her to feel better than anyone for any reason other than the fact that some people are just bad news and mean nothing but harm. Today, when I say I am stuck up, it means I am stuck with my head lifted up to the sky towards the Lord who guides my every step and thought. No, I am not perfect but I am persistent in working towards the greater good and that includes this issue among many.

Until next time, keep being the best you that you can be!!

~ Mara Prose

***Since the posting of this blog, Dark Girls has premiered on Oprah’s OWN network****