White Girll, part II

Just a quick post on this, since I already opened the topic with my earlier post.  Despite knowing I would be the only white person, despite making it a big joke/challenge for myself with the tan, etc., despite past experience and everything else, I still had these feelings that I will share in condensed form (be grateful that I did not post on Saturday, as I felt like doing--at least emotionally, I felt like it; I couldn't move an eyelash physically). Despite the delayed timing, it's still not necessarily coherent or logical or well thought out. It just is.

I am SO white.  And it's not fun to be white when everyone else is a rainbow of beautiful colors.
I will never be a ravingly beautiful person--and that's okay with me.  I came to grips with that many, many years ago.  And in following years I have come to realize that people really are attractive--and yes, even pretty--because of what is inside of them. It's not just something that mothers or young women leaders say. I truly do see beauty in people who reflect the Spirit and Christlike qualities (even when they don't know Christ). The kinder they are, the more beautiful. Literally. And that's something I have control over, so whether it's there or not is my choice.  Unlike my physical appearance.  Which I have come to accept.  But sometimes circumstances renew dissatisfaction with myself.  Seeing myself surrounded by people who are darker than me can be one of those circumstances.  Weddings are especially awful--both because everyone is so pretty and because there are lots of pictures (note that earlier I said "seeing myself"; I have no problem being with other people--it's just the shocking act of seeing myself in that mix and realizing--that's me).

 

Me thinking about how white I am. just kidding, I think it was actually the sun

This wedding was made worse by the fact that I was wearing a dress that definitely wasn't designed to highlight my natural beauty (ironic, considering I made it, eh?). The color was about the same color as me (tan or not). It might could have been worse.  But it sure could have been better.  The next day at church, my black and purple dress helped restore my sense of self-calm.  But anyhow.  It wasn't about me, when it came to the dress.  Or anything else. At least it shouldn't have been. So I'm not sure why I was so sad about it that night.  Maybe because I was worn out and a bit depressed (the post-party blues) and that was something tangible to fix on.

This picture with Marilene was an example of where I thought: how awful! (it didn't help that I had sweat gallons onto a mask of makeup and was beat by this point).

That evening, while discussing the wedding, my roommates suddenly (in the midst of conversation about something else, ie. I did NOT bring up the topic!), realized: You were the only white person there!  Then they had a whole conversation about this.  No duh, I've been telling you that for two months (I'd even had them read my other post).  And having them there didn't help.  Unlike when I take a sister along to dilute the impact of my lone white self, my roommates only accentuate it more:

 Where's Waldo? She's the white one hiding in there:

The icing on the cake came when my roommate relayed to me (coincidentally that same afternoon), how a friend of hers justifies in inactivity at church: "I don't want to be in a room with all those judgmental white people." While I know perfectly well (because I know a lot more about the situation) that this girl is trying to justify a lot that she knows is wrong, it hurt. I'm one of those white people.  And I was really feeling it that day.

I'm not as disturbed as this post might make it sound, but I guess I was surprised during this whole experience to find how much it does bother me.  The truth is, I love my body. Really, truly love it.  Over the years that love has grown, a gift from a loving Heavenly Father (both the body and the love are gifts). I love all it can do. I like my appearance just fine; perhaps my favorite thing about my physical appearance is that it looks very, very much like all the people whom I love best in this world.  I love my super soft, curly hair and my blue eyes (both which come with my color).  And I LOVE my friends of other races and colors. I love having variety around me.  So I'm not really sure what the problem is; I guess that deep down there somewhere I wish I were beautiful and my color is one thing I can see that prevents that. So, there I share my selfishness: with my wonderful, functional, healthy, normal body, I worry about being white.