Love the Skin You're In

Two of my friends told me they show my picture to their nieces and daughters to encourage them to love their melanated skin.

I smiled when they told me that, but it also made me pause.

If I had the opportunity to sit down with those beautiful little girls or any little girl who has ever wondered if her skin is too dark, her features too different, or if she needs to become someone else to be beautiful this is what I would tell her.

When I was about eight years old, I was on a flight from Garoua to Douala with my family. I don't remember much else about that trip, but one image has stayed with me for decades. Looking back, I realize it wasn't simply a childhood memory. It was one of the first moments God began shaping my understanding of identity.

On that flight, I saw the most beautiful women I had ever seen.

They were the flight attendants.

They were tall, dark, elegant, and carried themselves with a quiet confidence that filled the cabin. Their neatly pressed uniforms, perfectly tied scarves, and warm smiles made them impossible to ignore. I remember watching them as they walked through the aisle and thinking they were absolutely beautiful.

That was the moment I fell in love with melanated skin.

Sweet girl, at eight years old I wasn't thinking about beauty standards or representation. I simply saw women who looked like me, and I thought they were beautiful. Sometimes God plants seeds in our hearts long before we understand why. Years later, I realized He wasn't just teaching me to appreciate my complexion. He was protecting my identity.

As I grew older, I discovered that not everyone saw beauty the way I did.

Like many teenagers, I experienced the quiet pressure to fit in. In secondary school, blemishing creams became popular. Friends experimented with products that promised lighter, clearer, "better" skin. For a brief moment, curiosity got the better of me.

It didn't last.

I was also called "Blackie" more than once. It was meant to make me feel small. It hurt, but it never became my identity because something had already taken root in my heart years earlier. That little girl on the airplane had already decided that dark skin was beautiful.

Looking back now, I realize she had settled something much deeper than beauty.

She had unknowingly settled who would have permission to define her.

And that's what I want you to understand.

The greatest battle you will ever fight isn't over your complexion.

It's over your identity. The world will always have an opinion about you.

I've watched beauty standards change more times than I can count. Features that were once criticized are now celebrated. Hairstyles once considered unprofessional become fashionable. Skin tones once dismissed become desirable. Culture has a remarkable way of changing its mind.

That's why you can never build your identity on it.

Culture changes.

Truth doesn't.

Today, social media gives comparison a microphone. Every scroll invites you to compare yourself to someone else's carefully edited life until you begin questioning things God never asked you to question.

It whispers:

"Your skin is too dark."

"Your features are too African."

"Your hair is too textured."

"You don't look like everyone else."

If you listen long enough, you'll begin believing those whispers.

That's why I eventually stopped asking myself whether I was enough.

Instead, I started asking a different question:

Who told me that?

It's the same question God asked Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden:

"Who told you that you were naked?" (Genesis 3:11)

What a powerful question. Because sometimes we've believed things about ourselves that God never said. 

Sometimes we've accepted labels that heaven never gave us.

Sometimes we've spent years trying to fix something God intentionally created.

Sweet girl, if Christ doesn't define you, something else will.

Culture will.

Social media will.

Popularity will.

Success will.

Relationships will.

Other people's opinions will.

The world is always trying to answer a question God already settled.

The issue has never really been your beauty.

The issue has always been your identity.

When I think back to that little girl on the flight from Garoua to Douala, I smile.

She thought she was simply admiring beautiful women. She had no idea God was quietly anchoring her identity before the world had the chance to challenge it.

Today, I understand that my confidence doesn't come from my complexion, my features, or even my heritage.

It comes from my Creator.

Psalm 139 reminds me that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Before anyone had an opinion about my skin, God had already decided it was part of His beautiful design. And because I belong to Christ, my identity goes even deeper than the color of my skin. I am His daughter. I am chosen. I am loved. I am redeemed. That is the truest thing about me.

So if I could leave you with one piece of advice, it wouldn't simply be to love your melanated skin.

It would be this:

Know who you are in Christ.

Because when your identity is rooted in Him, you stop asking the world for permission to love what God intentionally created.

And one day, I hope another little girl will look at you the way I looked at those flight attendants with admiration, confidence, and the quiet assurance that she, too, was beautifully made.

Love the skin you're in.

Not because the world finally celebrates it.

But because the God who created you and calls you His has already declared your worth.