Between 5-6th grade, I began dance and enjoyed it very much. To date, I still dance, however, do not take classes. I dance in front of the mirror. I believe that dance connects me with my body. During my dancing days, I did ballet and traditional African dance. Some dance moves embraced me and some did not. What my tween mind did not understand was that it was perfectly okay.

I remember gulping vinegar down my throat with a best-friend of mine (yes it’s a ritual of mine to get a partner in every little thing I want to try out) with the intention of losing weight. The project did not last, I probably found something exciting in a few days. My journey to self-acceptance and love would soon mimic the stories of Shakespeare, “they go up, down and up again”.

I went on a journey to stop relaxing my hair, this was influenced by my older cousin who herself kept her hair unprocessed. As a young adult, I chose to keep it natural because I chose to embrace myself as I am. Daily, I make a conscious decision to learn to love what is on the mirror and not resist it. I do this in ways I speak to myself, I have learnt to speak of my stomach with love, of my hair with embrace. As a ballet dancer, my goal was to always have a flat stomach. Today, I look at my stomach and I think to myself; a girl deserves to have a stomach. If it wasn’t supposed to be there, it would not have been there. 

The other day my hair was irritating me, I had a nice afro hair style when I left the house, but thanks to humidity, it did not look as I wanted it to look. What I mean is that it did not look like I just popped out of Instagram (another topic of discussion). I stopped myself from feeling low because my afro had closed the part that I made and it was now standing instead of almost falling down my shoulders like an afro version of Marilyn Monroe’s hair. I told the inner critic that if it was supposed to fall it would fall. 

I remember the hate I once inflicted upon myself, particularly my hair. I was bullied about it in high-school. I would constantly be asked to do something about it. I can recall a day, when I was to address the school as the RCL president. A few minutes before I stepped on stage, a girl came to me and touched my hair and called it undesirable mean names. I will never forget how self-conscious I felt on stage. My speech was greatly prepared and I had always been good at public speaking. As soon as I left the stage, I did not feel good about myself. I was questioning how I look and how I sounded. I would not wear my hair out regularly and confidently because one of many of these ‘someone said moments’. I believe in enhancing our beauty but in this image obsessed society, can I just believe that I was made perfectly? If not at least close to perfect? If not at least for a reason? Yes, I believe so. 

As a young adult, I have chosen to take full responsibility of myself. My thoughts and beliefs. When I look at the mirror, I see a beautiful, young, woman who is made in the image of God. My belief in God (a higher power) has grounded me against all pressures women face when it comes to beauty. The mirror has become my best-friend. So, today, let us celebrate it, look at it and say “hey you, you look pretty!”.