Song For Dark Skin Girl.

I'll never forget the day I was supposed to him. We had only spoken on the phone. But we got along so well, and we couldn't wait to meet face-to-face. I took the bus from my high school to his for our blind date. While I nervously waited for him outside the school, one of his buddies came along, looked me over, and remarked that I would be a problem because his friend didn't like dating anybody darker than himself. 

When my mystery man-who was not especially good-looking-finally saw me, he took one look, uttered a hurried hello, then disappeared with his smirking friends. I had apparently been pronounced ugly on arrival and dismissed.

That happened nearly fifteen years ago. I'm thirty now, and the hurt and humiliation have long since faded. But the memory still lingers, reinforced in later years by other situations in which my skin color was judged by other African Americans-for examples, at a cocktail party or a nightclub where light-skinned black women got all the attention.

A racist encounter hurts badly. But it does not equal the pain of "colorism" - being rejected by your own people because your skin is colored cocoa and not cream, ebony, and not olive. On a scale of beauty, it is often the high yellows-in the lexicon of Black America, those with light skin- whose looks reap the most attention. Traditionally, if someone was described that way, there was no need to say that person was good-looking. It was given that light was lovely. It was those of us with plain brown eyes and darker skin hues who had to prove ourselves. 

I was twelve and my first year of junior high school in San Francisco when I discovered dark brown was not supposed to be beautiful. At that age, boys suddenly became important, and so did your looks. But by that time-the late 1970s, black kids no longer believed in that sixties mantra, "Black is beautiful." Light skin, green eyes, and long, wavy hair were once again synonymous with beauty. 

Colorism- and its subtext of self-hatred-began during slavery on plantations where white masters often favored the lighter-skinned blacks, many of whom were their own children. But though it began with whites, black people have kept colorism alive. In the past, many black sororities, fraternities, and other social organizations have been notorious for accepting only light-skinned members. Yes, some blacks have criticized their lighter-skinned peers. But most often in our history, a light complexion has been a passport to special treatment by both whites and blacks. 

Some social circles are still defined by hue. Some African Americans, dark and light, prefer light-skinned mates so they can have a "pretty baby." And skin-lightening creams still sell, though they are now advertised as good for blemishes fade rather than for lightening whole complexions. 

Only so many blacks can do about racism because we need the cooperation of others to make it go away. But healing ourselves is within our control. 

At least we can try. As a people, we face enough pain without inflicting our own wounds. I believe many people that could survive slavery that could disprove the lies that pronounced them less than human and teach their children that black is beautiful in all of its shades. Loving ourselves should be an easy thing to do.