"You're dark just like me," my grand-father would say. "Dark like charcoal."
And so, I became charcoal girl.
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Yes, I'm a black girl. It doesn't mean I need to have someone black on my profile pictures.
Yes, I'm a black girl. My afro long since died when my mum decided to relax (chemically straighten) my hair. No, it's not a form of child abuse. No, you can't touch my hair and braids. I am not a petting zoo.
Yes, I am a black girl. Martin Luther King Jr is not my hero. Oh the shock and horror.
Yes, I am a black girl. I like watermelons and sometimes eat KFC. Have you ever tried cold watermelon juice in the summer? It's a God send.
Yes, I am a black girl who sometimes experience racism. But it's not my problem you don't want to be served by a black girl. I couldn't care.
Yes, I am a black girl whose ideas, thoughts and ways of thinking are what most would describe as stupid, out of date, old fashion and dumb. But that isn't my problem.
YOU ARE READING
Charcoal Girl
Non-Fiction“You’re dark just like me,” my grand father would say. “Dark like charcoal.” And so, I became Charcoal Girl.
