A SHADE OF A MONOCHROME...

Five years.

Until five years ago, I was just simply, a woman. 

A woman with a dream to be well educated and successful in life; a woman with a willingness to make a difference and mark the sands of time; a woman with a culture, a heart, and a nation to call home.

Five years ago, I became more than just a woman. I became a woman of color. For five years, I've been labeled and defined as a woman of color. My identity was no longer defined by my last name, where I came from, or my occupation. My dreams to be well educated and successful were dwarfed in the minds of some people who didn't believe I deserved it. What I wanted to become was suddenly limited to what I could become. When I stepped out into the world, what I had was suddenly not mine anymore. My culture belonged to the almighty past defined by anguish and suffering. My rights became secondary. My success was not guaranteed. My well being was not a priority. My life? Well its worth was debatable. My femininity was now being defined by my skin tone, and I was only beginning to understand. 

You see, I attended an american elementary school. I was exposed, from a very young age, to so many different cultures and ways of life. In my grade alone, India, Russia, Germany, England, Poland, Ethiopia, America, Lebanon and of course Nigeria, among others, were all represented, and although we made fun of each other from time to time, we were just simply classmates - learning and growing together; finding similarities in our dissimilarities. So from a young age, I knew my culture was different from many others around the world, and I found value in appreciating the culture of others.

This difference - the difference of culture - was the only difference I was ever exposed to. I knew that in some other parts of the world I wouldn't be able to serve red wine at my parties as is my custom because the majority of my attendees would be below a certain age. I knew that in some other parts of the world people worked summer jobs to buy their textbooks. I knew that in some other parts of the world, independence came at 18. I knew that in some other parts of the world, pounded yam or rice was not their sunday afternoon meal. I knew that in some other parts of the world I would be known as African or Nigerian. This, my friends, was all the difference I ever knew. 

Fast forward to five years ago, and imagine the struggle that was introduced into my life in the shape and form of identity. The only difference I knew was that of culture but all of that changed in a simple 13 hour flight that left Lagos Nigeria and landed Atlanta America. Everything I knew about who I was suddenly changed. I was an Ubwa - a lot came with my last name cause of who my parents are. I was a christian. I was Nigerian. I was 18 years old. I was. But I crossed an ocean, and all of that didn't even matter anymore. I was suddenly forced to think in a completely different light about myself because everything I thought was became wrapped up in the one thing that I never realized I was - Black.

For the first time five years ago, I was starting to realize that for years to come, I would struggle with an identity that I didn't even know was mine. And I did. But believe me when I say that this realization didn't come easy. I've had to step off the sidewalk into the grass because someone thought I wasn't worth the space. Ive had to do all the difficult work at some jobs because well, "thats just my job". Ive had to fight for fair treatment because someone just thought I didn't deserve it. I've got told by some professors that my best work is a "C" grade. I have been told to not apply for some jobs because people of color dont get hired. My success was recognized alongside my colour - like, she did this so well! ... And she's black! 

However, you know, its amazing what five years can do! I am a woman of colour. Yes. But what I've been through? No. I refuse. I refuse to accept that that theres another difference that is a part of my life besides my Nigerian or African culture. I refuse to accept that I'm less than. I refuse to accept that I'm not deserving or worth it. I refuse to be secondary. I refuse to be inferior. I refuse to constantly be second. I refuse to live my life accepting the pain and anguish of the past as my own. There's no simpler way to say it. I refuse.

I was born an original. I was born to succeed. I was born to be deserving of all the beautiful things. I was born a woman of color. I am a woman of color. But I refuse to be one. I call myself quite simply, a woman. Because thats what I am. My identity lies in the one who made me. I am the image of my maker. He loves ME. He'll never leave ME. His grace is sufficient for ME. He puts me first. He always does. So thats where I choose to be. Where my maker put ME. 

So, Let my femininity be defined by my body parts. Let my skin tone be a shade of a monochrome. Let me be just simply, a woman. With a dream that will be achieved. A woman that will change the sands of time. A woman with her heart. Her culture. Her home.

That's a shade of a monochrome... as i do it.

~***shanpepe***~

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