Ugly Color

In a society of body-shaming and struggles for confidence, Nia has no trouble joining the controversy, regarding beauty in blackness, and body shape. She hopes to find a boy who'll love her for her dark skin, thick body, and frizzy, nappy hair, but finds that not everybody thinks dark is beautiful.

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1. Eyes That Hurt

First day back, I have to look adorable as fuck. Thought Nia.

But instead, Nia was laying on the couch, texting her friend, Ella. There was a week before school began again. She was thinking of outfit ideas, and whatever the fuck to buy so that she would look presentable, but unapproachable. But still cute enough to ask out.

This was the first official year that her mom finally let her have the desired-by-all boyfriend, finally have an intimate relationship with a male that wasn't related to her, and it was the first year at her new school, after moving during the summer.

My makeup has to be fleek as fuck, yo. Thought Nia.

Nia's P.O.V.

Today was the day that I made the decisions that stuck with me all year. I had to pick clothes that screamed out the impression I wanted across. And clothes that were sexy enough to seduce a few males, if you know what I mean. But not sexy-slutty. Just showing off my figure or something.

"I'm not ready." I told my mom. "Girl, get in the store, so we can get this done, and have you looking beautiful for the first day at your new school."

"A'right," I paused for a moment, I still couldn't bring myself I enter the store, and I didn't know why. I just had a bad, churning feeling. It was really strange, though.

"Can you just like, nudge me in there, mum?" My mom rolled her eyes, and groaned, but shoved me in the store doors. After standing up in the store, I saw a spotty, wrinkled white man standing at the counter, who had a smile on his face, until my mother and I entered. His whole face dropped, as if he had found out the worst news from an invisible friend whispering in his ear.

Then his face turned to a scowl as my mother walked in. My bad feeling felt confirmed and uglier from the way he scowled and stared at me and my mother.

My mother began walking around the store, and didn't even spot the man, then gestured to me as to follow.

I tried to brush aside his negative looks as I followed my mother into the labyrinth-like racks of clothing, where I felt good about going, because he couldn't see me and burn me with his painful glares.

After about an hour of shopping, I found about four tops, that I absolutely loved, they fit me well, and my mom loved them as much as I did.

We exited the dressing rooms, and my mom tossed two tees that we had decided against on the first rack we saw, since pretty much all the clothes were disorganized and wiggledy-piggledy.

As we were leaving a row of racks, we saw the same man blocking our way, with the same disgusted look on his face.

***

I don't even remember the hurtful words. From the first angry word that escaped his mouth, there was a blur of angry, disgusting rage on me and my mother, using the one word that they are not allowed to use. I knew that he wasn't mad at the way we put the clothes back, he was made at my color. He was waiting for something to come up so that he could curse us out like he was. It was unbelievable.

"Stupid niggers."

"Disgusting, rude niggers."

"Get the fuck out of my store, disgusting, illiterate dumb nigger bitches."

We were silent, trying to figure if this was real or not, because my mind swirled, I was dizzy. It was physically painful, the few moments of confusion.

"So you can't talk either?! I should've expected that from dumb, illiterate, niggers."

The word stung every time he used it. It was like a stab to my head, with every repeat of the derogatory word.

It was the type of thing that you see on the news, the racial slurs of a stupid, drunk celebrity on Twitter for a bit too long. Except it was a perfectly conscious man, perfectly aware of the things he was saying, and meaning everything he called out.

My mom tried to cover my ears, but I heard everything, as she threw the clothes angrily at the man. She spat a couple of things at him, cuss words that never escaped my mother's mouth before. She literally spit on him, too. "Racist fucking scum.", being the last thing that she dared tell him before she violently made her way out of the store, pushing racks and throwing things at the man.

***

We were sitting in the car. It was dark outside. We were pretty far from the store, from where we parked. My mom was silent for what felt like hours. And the silence left me alone with what the fuck just happened. Mom was staring into the dark nothingness. I could tell she was contemplating what just happened during the mind-freeing silence.

A/N: Hello, my readers! Now, yes, it's CutieQueen, with a changed name. I was going through a lot of stuff for a long time, but now I am here, with a story of racism, love, and confusion for a dark skin teen black girl, this is sort of based on my life. I'm not going to elaborate on which parts are true, but you get the picture. Now, this is a shorter chapter, just to get it out, and show you guys that I'm still alive. :)

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