From Our Readers: To All the People Who Made Fun of Me

I wish they knew so that I won't suffer alone.
by You!   |  Feb 3, 2016
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I can't even remember the first skin color joke that was thrown at me. What I do remember is the pain. It was harsh like a thousand shards cutting me open. I wanted to cry. I think I did. 

What I do remember is the pain. It was harsh like a thousand shards cutting me open.

Then years passed and never have I ever gone past a year or even a month without hearing a joke about my color. Through those years, I kept the hurt inside. I laughed at those jokes even though I wanted to hurt the people who teased me. I told them I understood the whole “joke” concept about it, even though I don't really understand why do they need to make fun of me. Through those years, the pain was an integral part of me. It reminded me of how shameful I was compared to those who were draped in fairer colors. 


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With all the insecurity and pain inside of me, I never once thought of myself as someone who will be as beautiful like those in white. I was just a third-class face. Nothing more than that.

I wanted to snap whenever they joked about me. I wanted to hurt them, slap them, call them something much more offensive than their jokes. But I didn't. I couldn't. It was temping yet I can never stoop down to their level. Or go up their level. 

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If only they knew the pain of it. If only they knew how hard it is not to snap because I didn't want things to get worse. I wish they knew so that I won't suffer alone.

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