Brown Tears

I prefer the color purple rather than the color pink. Purple is the color I like the most because I think it is beautiful. A month ago my son revealed his color preference and I wasn't prepared. It has taken me some time to think about whether I would write about this topic or not as it is pretty sensitive but in the end I feel like not writing about it would bring a constant nagging that would be hard to escape.

About a month ago, my oldest son, Desmond asked me to place my hand up against his hand and I did not understand why. He analyzed his hand and mine and proceeded to say, "I wish I had you and Omari's color brown." My heart betrayed me and stopped. All my senses went numb. I couldn't believe what my wonderfully made son just said. I asked him why he felt that way and he said that my brown and his brother's brown was a better brown because it's lighter. I pushed past the ringing in my ear and lovingly asked him if someone at school was saying mean things to him.  He told me that he had no problems with anyone. This was something he felt. I mentally scanned my memory bank to find a moment in time where he could have developed this thought. All I could conjure up was the Michael Jackson story we watched a few months ago. Michael Jackson did not like the way he looked and then Desmond saw that he slowly started to look like a white man. Maybe this resonated with him? As I pondered on that, Desmond asked if he would become lighter as he got older. Maybe it was the movie. I looked at Desmond and held him so tight. I told him that he was a beautiful shade of brown and my color and Omari's color is not of any greater beauty. We are all equally beautiful. I began to cry as I tried to encourage my son to love himself. Desmond told me that he did not mean for me to cry but I told him it wasn't his fault. I let him know that I loved him and hearing him express his dislike of himself is why I was crying. At that moment my husband cooly walks in the room and stops just half past the threshold with a confused look on his face. I explained to him the views Desmond expressed about himself. Chris sat next to his first born and took him into his magnificently chocolate arms and provided him with words of encouragement only a father could give.
Tears and laughs were exchanged. At the end of it all, Chris and I both expressed to Desmond that we were very appreciative of him coming to us to express his thoughts and we encouraged him to continue to do that. We said a prayer together and I immediately sprung to action. My baby needed positive affirmations. I wrote a love note for him to say to himself everyday he looks into the mirror and taped it onto the bathroom mirror. I told him that he needed to look at himself while he recited the words and smile. I also wrote him a poem. I made it short and sweet so he could remember it. In that same week, my coworker let me borrow a wonderful book called "Shades of Black" by  Sandra Pinkney. Desmond's eyes lit up when he read the book. We also found a book at the library called "Desmond and the Very Mean Word" by Archbishop Desmond Tutu. This book was absolutely amazing. It touched Desmond beyond words. He saw a beautiful brown boy that was his shade of brown and the icing on the cake was that the boy's name in the book was Desmond! He looked at me and cried. He was so elated.
As of today, my son is continuing to grow in his love for himself. We continue to check in with him and continue with our balanced positive affirmations. Desmond WILL love himself because we are determined to show him what he is worth.
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ODE TO DESMOND

My brown is deep
My brown is sweet
My brown shines in front of everyone I meet

It compliments my smile and hugs my eyes
It turns many heads and that's no surprise.

I love my brown which means I love me
There is no other person I would rather be
Whether the light shines or darkness peaks
I am who I am and there is no one like me.