But Dont Be Creepy - Tumblr Posts
I’m not black, but I do have BDD. So there is a lot I can relate to. Comments were made to me so often about my appearance when I was little that definitely affected me as an adult. (I mean... obviously. Lol.) It hurts so bad when your own mother shits on you. I’m sorry you had to go through it too.
I checked out your profile, and you are genuinely beautiful. You’re the girl I wish I looked like. I know you probably won’t believe that, and that’s okay, because one day you will.
BDD is an ass of a disorder. I hope you can recover. ❤️
Being a Black Girl with Body Dysmorphia.
“You’re not pretty”.
“Monkey”.
“Ugly”.
“Fat”.
“You’re not even cute”.
These are just a few of the hurtful comments I received from people growing up. I’m a firm believer in words cutting deeper wounds because they leave scars on the mind and heart. Years later I can still remember and feel how I felt being called such things. Likewise, years later, at times I see myself as those things. As a child, being the “African girl” wasn’t easy. I wasn’t well liked not because of what I did but because how I looked. My face looked different. My voice sounded different. I’m a tall girl. My hair didn’t look like the other girls. At such a young age in combination with how people treated me, I was made aware that “Gosh, I am different”. Out of that blossomed self-hatred of anything pertaining my appearance + body image. Didn’t help that I didn’t grow up in a household where I heard anything positive about myself. Never was I pretty enough. Never was I skinny enough. Never was I smart enough.I just wasn’t good enough. Hearing your own mother call you “ugly” and “fat” but never once that you’re beautiful – That hurts more than anything. Imagine me being 7 years and the kids at school already call you names and now your mother has become your own bully in your own household. Appearance became a huge obsession for me. I lived (and still do live) with the pain of being called “ugly” and I never want to be called that ever again.
If there’s anything I became well skilled in, it was picking apart my face. I also made it a habit to say horrible things about my appearance … Maybe if I said them about myself first, then it wouldn’t hurt so much if someone else did. Or maybe it was me accepting that “Hey, I am ugly. No need to cry in a corner about it if it’s my truth. Accept it”. Accepting compliments are never easy for me; 9/10 I’m going to think that someone paid you to compliment me than it being genuine. To a lot of people reading this, they might look at me like “Huh? Is she crazy? She doesn’t think she’s beautiful” … And I think that’s what sucks about having body dysmorphia. You really feel as if you can’t talk about the honest fact that you truly hate your face + body. Especially as a girl, first thing someone thinks is that you’re fishing for compliments. In fact, sometimes compliments are hard for me to take in. Not only because I don’t believe them, it just makes me feel “seen”. Like ah, people actually see my face. In my head, it translates that I’ve been looking like trash all along and yet I allowed people to see me. Negative comments on my body + face kill me. Being African, it’s common for an Aunty to pick on you that it seems as if you’re gaining weight. If only they knew that such comments could drive me into a week of “strict dieting”. Particularly being a black girl, I don’t think we’re shown as much mercy when we talk about not feeling pretty. Being a woman already sucks cause the world has so many expectations on what makes you beautiful but being black was a cherry on top. And no, I love being black … Just that facing a double-edged sword of misogyny and racism doesn’t make life any easier. Like others, watching television as a young girl, I didn’t see anyone that looked like me. No one had my Afrocentric facial features. No one had my hair. No one had my figure. So great, I’m 7 and the world, my mom, my classmates, and my television are telling me I’m not beautiful. 15 years later, looking in the mirror, I can still see that 7 year old. If only she knew that she looked perfectly fine. If only she knew that she shouldn’t have taken such comments to heart. I wish I could hug her. I never wanted her to grow up still hanging on to people’s cruel words.
I spent almost two decades listening to how mean people have been about me and how I look. It was until last year I started the journey of learning to love myself. It’s not easy journey. Sometimes I want to throw the towel in and just write “UGLY” on my forehead. Some days I’m like “Actually, I’m kinda cute”. It’s a constant internal battle and most days I end up saying “Fuck it, I’m ugly”. But remaining hopeful that one day I’ll accept the beauty that makes me who I am, that’ll I accept what makes me different. I write this post not only for myself but for other black girls out there that may feel same way but don’t speak up. I know how it feels to feel that no one cares, especially when it comes to feeling sad about your appearance. I get scared opening up about body dysmorphia to anyone cause everyone mistakes it for vanity and fails to recognize that this is something I deal with on a daily. Making an effort to start tomorrow with saying positive affirmations to myself rather than my morning routine of tearing my face apart in my head. It’s a slow journey but God-willing, I’ll be just fine.