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"Hey! My name is Mia Wilson. I am eighteen and originally from Orlando Florida, after a month of graduating high school I relocated to New York, I originally came to go to school and study journalism but am now transitioning into screenwriting and acting. Though I am switching my field of study, I find passion in writing, reading and creating scripts I'm into merging my writing with emotions that I feel and colors to reflect that motion. I decided to divide myself in a way, by titling my pieces with the color I've felt."
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Black, Brown
Though I hate to publicly claim where I’m from, and I’ve promised myself I would only say I’m from New York to avoid memories of my past life, I can admit, it is becoming more necessary to remember where I came from to remember how bad it is to be there. There as in the south, more specifically, Florida. In my defense, I can not fail to mention that both of my parents are from New York, blessing me with a “New York state of mind”
Growing up in Florida was challenging, to say the very least. Being that Florida is a large state consisting of, old racists, Rednecks, privileged white kids, ignorant black people and everything in between, I felt trapped. Though I was blessed to have supportive parents, and siblings, the pressure to fit in over-complicated my life. I lived in a small town, with too many people. If ya’ know what I mean.
It started in elementary school, being too black for the white kids and too black for the white kids, and not only that; but being physically too black. It is no lie that people in the south, primarily black people, have this deeply embedded, bizarre obsession with light-skinned people, thick women. Due to my dark skin, I was immediately labeled as ugly and unworthy, that was it. I lacked in beauty to those around me, and I struggled to find myself. I constantly had a lingering thought in my mind, “I’m just too black. and too skinny”. I remembered trying desperately to find different ways to lighten my skin in secret, from rice-milk baths to skin lightening creams. Luckily I prioritized money for clothes over money for lighter skin.
Having a beautiful curvy and light-skinned mother and two light-skinned brothers, along with my idolization of light-skinned celebrities brought nothing but anxiety, stress, and depression. I constantly wondered why I was not blessed with the same light skin. By this point, I’m sixteen, in high school, still skinny as hell, and avoided by boys. Looking back, I could’ve easily brushed this off and did my own thing, but it’s interesting to see, just how simple words ruin a person. My obsession didn’t get better, but worse by being harassed about all of my black features. Because for some reason after the lengthy existence of black people, other black people around me expected evolution to just hack at all that made us.
I wish at the end of this story, I had some sort of miraculous mental recovery, but that has yet to occur. I am still struggling with accepting my blackness, but day-by-day I can feel more empowerment, having creative outlets and supportive friends makes a difference in my life that I can not put into words. I feel for my black women, all around, having to be tortured for having beautiful full lips and dark skin. I understand and accept, I will not ignore but help to support us. Our black is beautiful.
Though I hate to publicly claim where I’m from, and I’ve promised myself I would only say I’m from New York to avoid memories of my past life, I can admit, it is becoming more necessary to remember where I came from to remember how bad it is to be there. There as in the south, more specifically, Florida. In my defense, I can not fail to mention that both of my parents are from New York, blessing me with a “New York state of mind”
Growing up in Florida was challenging, to say the very least. Being that Florida is a large state consisting of, old racists, Rednecks, privileged white kids, ignorant black people and everything in between, I felt trapped. Though I was blessed to have supportive parents, and siblings, the pressure to fit in over-complicated my life. I lived in a small town, with too many people. If ya’ know what I mean.
It started in elementary school, being too black for the white kids and too black for the white kids, and not only that; but being physically too black. It is no lie that people in the south, primarily black people, have this deeply embedded, bizarre obsession with light-skinned people, thick women. Due to my dark skin, I was immediately labeled as ugly and unworthy, that was it. I lacked in beauty to those around me, and I struggled to find myself. I constantly had a lingering thought in my mind, “I’m just too black. and too skinny”. I remembered trying desperately to find different ways to lighten my skin in secret, from rice-milk baths to skin lightening creams. Luckily I prioritized money for clothes over money for lighter skin.
Having a beautiful curvy and light-skinned mother and two light-skinned brothers, along with my idolization of light-skinned celebrities brought nothing but anxiety, stress, and depression. I constantly wondered why I was not blessed with the same light skin. By this point, I’m sixteen, in high school, still skinny as hell, and avoided by boys. Looking back, I could’ve easily brushed this off and did my own thing, but it’s interesting to see, just how simple words ruin a person. My obsession didn’t get better, but worse by being harassed about all of my black features. Because for some reason after the lengthy existence of black people, other black people around me expected evolution to just hack at all that made us.
I wish at the end of this story, I had some sort of miraculous mental recovery, but that has yet to occur. I am still struggling with accepting my blackness, but day-by-day I can feel more empowerment, having creative outlets and supportive friends makes a difference in my life that I can not put into words. I feel for my black women, all around, having to be tortured for having beautiful full lips and dark skin. I understand and accept, I will not ignore but help to support us. Our black is beautiful.
Maroon
Monday, November 26th, 2016
Over-confidence has ruined me. That and my lack of care for my health and well-being. My mental health is deteriorating, I am losing my mind. Slowly, but surely. I’d hate to think its living in New York, because it isn’t, or maybe its adding to it.
During my senior year of High School I became in love with the idea of being the perfect being. My expectations for my future self were set high, not unachievable, but too high to achieve with my current living situation. I Imagined myself beautiful at all times and place, but never arrogant or making others feel less important. I pictured a life of bliss, overcoming any challenge with ease. Which may or may not be entirely unrealistic, especially living with my grandmother.
Living with a relative could possibly be one of the most queen-sized mistakes I have made during this phase. For many reasons I do not care to mention at the moment. My living state is not at all what I had fantasized for myself. I can feel the negative energy is killing me increasingly by the hour and there is not much I can do to change it without ruining my other plans for my semi-newfound self.
The fact that I am still trying to maintain this image for myself and living with building negative energy makes it that much harder to become what I truly want to become. I cannot speak upon my only pro’s without a great feeling of judgement from behind myself pouring over me; nor can I line up all of my con’s in attempt to make sense out of it all. Until I can find a sense of relief, I can only withdraw myself. I should add; without meaning to be corny or fake-deep, that though I am in solitude, I can see better opportunities arising around me, that with time and effort will restore me.
Monday, November 26th, 2016
Over-confidence has ruined me. That and my lack of care for my health and well-being. My mental health is deteriorating, I am losing my mind. Slowly, but surely. I’d hate to think its living in New York, because it isn’t, or maybe its adding to it.
During my senior year of High School I became in love with the idea of being the perfect being. My expectations for my future self were set high, not unachievable, but too high to achieve with my current living situation. I Imagined myself beautiful at all times and place, but never arrogant or making others feel less important. I pictured a life of bliss, overcoming any challenge with ease. Which may or may not be entirely unrealistic, especially living with my grandmother.
Living with a relative could possibly be one of the most queen-sized mistakes I have made during this phase. For many reasons I do not care to mention at the moment. My living state is not at all what I had fantasized for myself. I can feel the negative energy is killing me increasingly by the hour and there is not much I can do to change it without ruining my other plans for my semi-newfound self.
The fact that I am still trying to maintain this image for myself and living with building negative energy makes it that much harder to become what I truly want to become. I cannot speak upon my only pro’s without a great feeling of judgement from behind myself pouring over me; nor can I line up all of my con’s in attempt to make sense out of it all. Until I can find a sense of relief, I can only withdraw myself. I should add; without meaning to be corny or fake-deep, that though I am in solitude, I can see better opportunities arising around me, that with time and effort will restore me.