Years ago, I wrote a LiveJournal post about colorism in which I declared that I was more traumatized over accusations that I sounded white than some rando telling me that I was “cute for a dark-skinned girl.”
Ah, the folly of youth. Had I actually sat with my feelings — interrogated them, even — perhaps I would’ve remembered all the slights I shrugged off, all the blatant disrespect I chose to ignore to keep the peace.… Read more