The Journey
I’ve always been the tallest girl in class since I was in kindergarten. I liked being called on to help my short teachers pull something down from a high shelf, because I’m a teacher’s pet at heart. Other than that, I did not see many advantages to my height as a kid. At 9 years old, I did not feel cute or adorable in my size 10 feet and Payless shoes. I truly felt like an “other”. I was always the only black person in class from elementary through high school and was never going to be asked to any school dance by those white boys. I continued to see that “other” identity as harmful rather than as an asset for too many more years to come.
After high school, I went to Howard University, a historically black university (HBCU), and was immersed in a sea of black excellence like I’d never experienced. I received male attention for the first time, I had a solid group of friends, I held down internships and jobs, and was on a solid career path towards becoming a social worker.
“With nothing but time to think, I had to finally decide that I was going to move past this self-hate.”
Despite these achievements, after college and beyond, I didn’t like myself. My self worth was solely tied to how I felt about my body. My friends and family thought I was a wonderful human being, I’d gotten a graduate degree from an Ivy League school (rolls eyes because that shit doesn’t matter), I had a steady job and stream of income, but I was in a constant battle with trying to change my body.
I have spent so many years hating this body. I have looked in the mirror numerous times, pinching my stomach rolls, disgusted by my back fat, cringing at my stretch marks. I tried all the weight loss programs out there and never committed fully. I have hated my body longer than I have loved it, to be frank.
I‘ve been trapped in this narrative of “not fitting in”, which caused me to dislike myself so much that true self-love had been foreign to me. I spent all those years wanting to look like the Beckys and the Brittanys that surrounded me, but never wanted to look like Nnemoma. In fact, it’s been so much easier sitting in this place of self-hate than working towards anything else.
“I’m learning to love myself.”
Things are slowly changing though. This 2020 pandemic has given me so much time with myself that I have had no choice but to confront my demons. With nothing but time to think, I had to finally decide that I was going to move past this self-hate. If not, hating myself would continue for the next 60 plus years of my life, and I’m too dope to continue feeling this shitty about my body.
I’m now exercising for my health and my mind, not necessarily to see the number on the scale lessen. I’m falling in love with dancing. I’m eating plant based foods to clean my gut, and not for weight loss (okay, let me be real, I still do want that number to come down, but maybe one day I won’t care, right?). I’m branching out from my boxed and rigid thinking for once and starting a business. I’m reading for pleasure again. I’m communicating openly and honestly and shedding my “nice girl” image. I’m exploring my creative side again. I’m learning to love myself.
I acknowledge all the years I’ve spent disliking parts of me, and I can say that I’m truly evolving. Maybe those years were necessary, so one day I’ll be able to help other girls and women love themselves. It’s an ongoing journey, and I’m finally strong enough to travel down this road.
