“Why don’t I get to be like her?” the child asked.
She remembered seeing her across the road, across the class, across the great courtyard happily walking down the streets while bobbing her cute little head – her cute little head full of curls.
She often watched the doll with fascination as she had porcelain skin, baby doll features, and often wondered why did she not share the same fate.
“Mom, why don’t I get to be like her?” she used to ask her mom.
“Be grateful,” her mom would often reply.
She got bullied a lot growing up as an immigrant in a small little town where people around her predominantly had porcelain skin. “Darkie” was her nickname. In frustration, she tried to hide her own roots, always tried in vain to fit in with the crowd. She tried to be everything else except herself.
Well, there were certainly bright spots in her life. Her life was not that bad as she made it out to be. Those were the moments when she finally got to experience cultural diversity through her travels, and most importantly stories she got to share with strangers who eventually became her closest friends.
She had a fond liking of anything Arab or African as they reminded her of ancient times of joy, journeys and freedom.
– – –
Today, she’s the Asian girl with Afro curls.
Everything in its right place.