I Am the Beholder
My self-esteem as a Black woman was tested before I even knew what self-esteem was. My mother told me this story of a young, bright-eyed version of Cheyenne. I was in elementary school and it was around Halloween season. I apparently disclosed to my closest friends at that time that I was going to be a princess for this coming Halloween. One of these friends decided to let me know that I cannot be a princess because I am Black. Now honestly I have no recollection of this event nor my feelings after, but my mother told me I was truly devastated when I told her. During this period, there is no Princess and the Frog. Little girls like me did not have Tiana and her prince Naveen for our happily ever after inspiration. There were princesses that look nothing like me, but I always gravitated towards Pocahontas and Jasmine simply due to their melanin. Now looking back at this as an adult, I would have schooled her like no other, explaining that her deduction was solely based on anti-Blackness that is instilled in her. Oh, but I would not have stopped there, I then would have continued by also acknowledging her lack of competency and overall ignorance because my people are far greater than any Disney princess. But, hey, we all do not the pleasure of a “redo button”, so I’ll take that L(esson).
That was then, this is now. But, the feelings are roughly the same.
