I struggled with my skin pretty much my entire life. I was ashamed of the way it looked. I had cystic acne, bacne, and hyperpigmentation. I wished I could look like the models on the covers of JET magazine or People magazine. I wanted flawless skin that glowed.

What little me didn’t know was:

Most models are airbrushed or photoshopped to look like they don’t have any blemishes. I didn’t realize they were imperfect just like I was. I didn’t know that so many of these beautiful women also struggled with their skin and their self-esteem. I was fed a lie. A lie that haunted me for my whole life and sometimes tries to creep in even now.

The lie said: “If you don’t look like this woman, you’re not pretty enough. If your skin color isn’t this particular shade, you aren’t valuable.” This falsity isn’t obvious to most of us. It’s subtle. It shows up in marketing campaigns, movies, and the like. We are drawn to her. We want to be her.

I believed the lie so much that I carried her with me. This belief that I was not worthy oozed out of my pores and onto others. It spread around like a plague. My unworthiness could be felt even if it wasn’t seen. It came out when I was complimented. I couldn’t simply accept or receive them. I had to throw one back to the person giving it. “Remember you’re not deserving of praise, Alana,” I’d remind myself. Other times, It would be me not wearing the top I loved because I had scars and bumps on my back. I let [them] win by shrinking and hiding myself. I even became envious of women that I wanted to be like.

About a year ago, I started asking myself questions. “How did I start believing I was flawed? Who told me I wasn’t worthy?” I couldn’t pinpoint a specific occurrence, but I could recall a certain family member always commenting on how my “kitchen was nappy” (in the black community we call the hairs at the nape of your neck your “kitchen”), how hard it was to do my hair, or making comments about how my cousin’s hair was easier to manage. Another family member made multiple comments about how I had acne and how no one else in the family did. Both these comments came from people I looked up to more than anything. I let their words and the images I saw in the media override what my mom always told me. My mom always spoke life into me:

“You’re beautifully and wonderfully made.”

“You’re my greatest gift from God. My blessing.”

“I love you more, but, you know who loves you most? God.”

You’d think I would see myself as the lovely girl she described. Especially, since I always had my mom encouraging me and guiding me. Wrong. I paid more attention to the evidence that “proved” how unworthy I was. This included seeing the perfect model on the magazine cover. There is no way I could ever be like her. I mean, my “kitchen is nappy,” “my hair is too thick,” and I have imperfect skin. I believed this to my core. It slowly made me hate being me.

Now, I absolutely love my hair. I can’t believe I thought having thick hair was a bad thing. I can’t believe I let someone tell me my kitchen was nappy. I loved my kinks, my curls, and now my sisterlocks. I love my brown skin and all the shades it turns. I love how my coils shrink so short and then can magically stretch so many inches longer.

What a blessing it is that I get to be me. I may have hyperpigmentation, ingrown hairs, and bumps on my back, sometimes. That’s okay. I love them all. It took me time to get to this point. It will likely take time for you, too. 

Start Today

If you’ve read this far, you’re likely wondering how I learned to fall in love with myself; flaws and all. Below I have some steps I took to get to this point.

1. Change your perspective

How I saw myself then was a reflection of the society around me. It was not who I was at my core. I wrote down all the mean things I said about myself and wrote a new belief for each

Ie. “I am ugly and fat” turns into “I don’t have to be perfect. I see me as I am and I love me. 

2. Reprogram your mind

Now, that I had my new beliefs about myself, I started to observe my thoughts. Each time I thought something negative about myself I’d either use the new belief or ask myself “Who told me this?” If I started speaking down to myself, I had affirmations ready. “I am beautiful.” “I love and accept myself.” “I am worthy.”

3. Take care of you

I started to take better care of my inner world (my body internally) and my outer appearance (external). You can begin by prioritizing more whole foods in your meals, drinking spring water, moving your body, praying/meditation, and playing more. Alongside these activities, you can start dressing up if you haven’t been. Do your hair and nails. Wear that outfit you’ve been saving for a special occasion. You are the special occasion, darling!

4. Watch what you’re internalizing 

The majority of us love technology and social media. It’s great, but it also has a dark side: comparison. I am asking you to take note when you have the urge to hate on someone or have jealous thoughts. Pay attention to when you start to compare yourself with other women online. Start to celebrate other women you vibe with and look up to. The truth is, if she can glow so can you. Many of us who are learning to fall in love with ourselves, mistakenly believe there’s not enough. I’m here to tell you: there’s more than enough space for all of us. You do not have to shrink so someone else can expand. All of us get to shine.

Journal Prompts & some questions to simmer on:

What insecurities about myself did I take on from others?

When was the first time I felt unworthy? 

Write down all the things you love about yourself.

I say we make a pact today, right now. “From this moment on, I promise to remember what a blessing it is to be me. I acknowledge my beauty. I understand that I am not perfect, but today, I choose to love on my flaws anyway. I also accept that I am not without blemish or fault. This makes me human. The only person I compare myself to is who I was yesterday. I am worthy. I am splendent. I no longer let anyone dim my light.”

Affirm: It is safe for me to let go of the old beliefs I have of myself.

With Love,

Lana