What’s Wrong With My Blackness?

By Basia Alicia Powell

What’s wrong with my blackness might you ask? Hmmm…my answer is nothing. So if the answer is nothing; why do I have to constantly face the burden of you stereotyping and patronizing me because you feel that I feel bad about myself.


For as long as I have known myself I knew I had be the best at whatever I do. At first I thought it was to gain your approval, but I later realized that it was to prove to you that despite my color, I am capable of greatness. I felt your racial and social prejudice even when you did your best to disguise it. I felt it as recent as yesterday when I went into a sales office to enquire about potentially purchasing a new property and you looked at me and said, “I am assuming that you are upgrading from a townhouse or something.” And I looked at you and said, “No I am thinking of downgrading from a house.”

Your undertones are loud. Your remarks only confirm who you are, it does not define who I am. I learnt a long time ago, even if you are a “good girl” everyone still would not like you. Sometimes they will resent you because they think you are too good.

My goal is not for you to like me because I am different from other black people. I am done with that. However, you will respect me and the fact that my blackness does not bother me. If anything, it empowers me. It propels my drive.


I remember feeling so beautiful in my blackness during my teenage years particularly, and I tried to make you see me the way I see myself. Instead you continuedto assume that I don’t like what I look like. I was always cool when I looked in the mirror. I saw beauty strength and power. Who cares what you think? “Your opinion of me is none of my business.”

If you were listening to me all along, you would have realised that I am cool with who I am, and what I look like. I never wanted to be lighter, shorter or thinner. My hair was made for my features. My nose and thick lips were made for my face. My “butt” is the kind people pay a lot of money for. Honestly, I wish I knew back then that my physical features would be so much in demand today and that you would be willing to pay for features you once called ugly.

You even managed to convince other women who look like me that they were not good enough. Some of them still believe this lie, and as a result, I have a hard time convincing them that I am a black queen. Even other black women sometimes feel threatened because they are afraid to believe they are queens.


I am not sure if you will ever realise that I feel just fine the way I was born. I love my kind of beautiful. When I look into the mirror, I don’t see flaws. I see someone who is not afraid to stand out. Besides, I also see you as beautiful. I just don’t think you are the standard for beauty. Beauty is not a particular color, skin tone, race, hair texture, height or size. Beauty has no stereotype. It has a presence. When it appears before you, you just know.

Beauty has more to do with nature, authenticity and confidence, than social construct. There is no ruberic for beauty. When beauty is starring you in the face, you have to acknowledge it. Even if you have to do so silently. I really don’t know anything black, that is not beautiful. Go check your wardrobe and try to put your style together without a piece of black clothing and see how that works out. There is nothing more impressive than a black luxury vehicle. Therefore, don’t try to tell me that my black is not beautiful.

I realise that you were taught to think this way all your life. However, you were misinformed. We came from the same place and we were created differently by the same person. How can you believe in your Creator and reject his creations? It seems to me that you may have a few things to work through. That’s on you. While you work it out, please note that absolutely nothing is wrong with my blackness. It’s actually beautiful.

Happy Black History Month🖤

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