is my race truly everything?

I’ve realised recently, that for me, race is everything. In everything I think or do, in some sort of way, my race is weaved in and out like a piece of thread holding a garment together. 

I’m unsure as to when my blatant ignorance died off and when it was replaced with an awareness that to me, can only be described as self-sabotaging. 

Throughout my youth, I never saw myself as any different to my friends. I was just me, not any different to the rest of my friends other than a little bit of chub that, to me, was the be all and end all of my pink and glittery youthful world. 

I guess I never really saw myself as different until, unfortunately, I realised that men/boys around me saw me as different – I wasn’t and still am not *to some of them* as desirable as my beautiful blonde or brunette friends. 

I wish now, looking back on it, that I didn’t come to appreciate or even realise my race because of the way that I was treated by men. I was the agony ant, the friend that boys would message to gauge how well they’d do with my friends, I’d be overlooked and catergorised as the funny one.

It’s hurtful of course and it was even more hurtful then, when I’d feel invisble until I made a joke, but I’ve been learning and I’ve been seeing people who grew up in similar situations that I did and gosh does it feel good to read through a comment section and relate to things!

I’d really love to say that I have gotten over it but I’m still on my little journey and I’m only writing this very serious post because yesterday I asked myself a theoretical question that I feel I won’t be able to work through unless I write it out. 

To what extent am I supposed to regard my blackness? 

I feel as though I’m not helping myself when all I think about is how black I am. Whenever I’m around a group of boys, I convince myself that they won’t like me because why would they when I’m surrounded by my white counterparts?

When I am entering any new situation, the first thing I think about is whether people will accept my blackness? 

Basically, being black is at the forefront of my mind and I don’t think I want it to be anymore.

But then I think there is also an issue in that – being ignorant to the problem of race will not help me in the long-run but I think I am just looking for any way out. I don’t want to think about my race first, I don’t want to think about what people think of me, or whether some guy is going to find me attractive, not because of what I’m wearing, or what my make-up looks like, but instead the colour of my skin. 

It’s an incredibly tiring and cyclical situation. 

ANYWAY, we’ll carry on down this road together,