Childhood
From Skin to Skin
What do you say to yourself being raised in white America as a fourteen-year-old black boy? What do you tell yourself when the media depicts white as beautiful and shows little to no concern for anyone else? What does that do to a child psychologically? It makes them feel like they were birthed in the wrong bodysuit, gazing into the mirror, seeing their melanin as the culprit, like there was a pigmentation mistake in the baby-making department, and they got swapped out for another. That is how I felt at the time. It got to a depressing point where I scoured the web, soul-searching YouTube videos of how to change skin colors and appear more white. The video response was a black man applying an excessive amount of baby powder on his face as a parody. Now, even though the video came off as satire, at the time, I was unnerved because clearly, I was facing psychological issues that took root in my childhood. From wanting my name changed to wishing to be somebody else entirely seemed very off-putting, especially as an eight or nine-year-old. I would not know how to respond if my child asked, "Why am I made like this?" and, "Why am I so ugly," especially if you heard the word beautiful and immediately associated it with your white counterparts.
By Masibat Zadah5 years ago in Confessions
Youngest Doll
I grew up with four siblings, two boys, and two girls, me being the youngest. Believe me, when I say, I had a lot of experience with them since at the age of 7 (that's the only age I started to remember everything), whether it be happy times or the unforgettable pranks that will always be brought up in family gatherings despite 28 years had passed and it's humiliating me.
By PILI5 years ago in Confessions
Regretful Notewriters Anonymous
Overeager Notetaker I sat in 3rd period, waiting for my best friend Natalie to get in her seat so I could give her the hilarious and over the top note I’d written in History. I tended to be considered more reserved with my humor, but with the topic in class being on the boring side, I found myself drifting off to a silly world where my usually contained emotions were put on display for my best friend. I remember looking back at the words and chuckling as everyone coursed through the room loudly as they got to their seats.
By Mycheille Norvell5 years ago in Confessions
Hey Preacher!
When it comes to embarrassment, I am a prodigy. At the tender age of 2, I was on top of my game. One day, I done something so bold, so purposefully, and so unexpected that, today, thirty-eight years later, the story is still being told at social gatherings and family functions, not to mention all the posts on social media; and it is no less shocking to those who hear it today as it was to all those who witnessed it on that fateful day.
By Heather Fritch5 years ago in Confessions
Farmhouse mishap
My family would frequently stay in a countryside bed and breakfast in rural Devon - it was a working farm, so me and my older brother had plenty to keep us occupied - watching the sheep or cows, exploring the barns and woodland areas, whilst my mother read or painted. My father was working during the weekdays and would come and stay with us during the weekend that we were there.
By Christian Wickham5 years ago in Confessions
When I Was Number 14
I’m not quite sure how it happened, but by the time I was 10-years-old, the game of basketball was my entire life. I played on every team at school, and travelled the continent every weekend. I always knew I wasn’t the best on the team, but I also knew I wasn’t the worst. They didn’t miss me all that much if I had to sit out for a game, but I was always welcomed back with open arms.
By Maeple Fourest5 years ago in Confessions
Painful Memories
We all have embarrassing moments and fun/hysterical moments to share. What's mine, well let me tell you! It all started on a nice day. I was a cute 5 year old little girl. I had beautiful curls, a pink shirt as I remember and some shorts. Of course it was a fine day because I lived in sunny Florida. My mom handed me a granola bar and I took the leash for my dog that we hung on the wall off and clicked it on to my dog's collar. My dog was a cute white fluffy mix. I'm not sure what breed it was because I never asked my parents when I was little. But my cute but very disobedient dog's name was Snowflake, and I loved her so very much.
By Isabella Rios5 years ago in Confessions
When You Gotta Go, You Gotta Go
Back when I was a little kid, and we're talking twenty some-odd years ago, I went to daycare after school. It was fairly normal, as far as daycares go. After school, I would be accompanied by other children and a teacher as we walked around the corner to the other school where daycare was hosted. This also happened pretty much immediately after the bell rang, as well, which meant we needed to form a line in the hallway quickly and wait for a teacher. Only then could we leave the building.
By Jessica Gustafson5 years ago in Confessions
