“What are you staring at, black?!”
This was the question that sent me onto a quest for my racial identity. “Black?” I didn’t get it. I knew that my skin was different, but I never thought it was a big deal. However, the way my teachers and classmates reacted, my Blackness was a bigger deal than I thought. At the age of eight, I was headed down the path which led me to an identity crisis. I felt normal until that day. I knew I had a slight tint in my skin tone and curly hair. But I spoke English just like everybody else. I showed up at school and played in the schoolyard just like everybody else. I was a kid like all the other students… wasn’t I? I didn’t understand why my Blackness surprised those around me. Being Black isn’t a bad thing! So, why is everyone acting like it is?
These were the thoughts running through my mind almost every day since I heard those words come out of that boy’s mouth. Anytime I saw someone who looked like me, whether it be on the street or the TV screen, I analyzed them to see what Black meant. I was hoping for some sort of definition to make my search short and sweet, but for about 14 years that question had a hold on me. If I wasn’t trying to prove my Blackness, I was determined to defend it as if it was all I had. 14 years fighting when I could’ve truly celebrated the fact that God took His sweet time on me. Long-legged, big-boned, light-skinned, curvy with curly hair (Psalms 139:16). God created me uniquely, and because of one word, I took on the world’s identity of me instead.
Once puberty starts and those genes start kicking in, Psalm 139 wouldn’t hit the way it used to. After years of believing your identity was found in what people or media say about you, the noise tends to be louder than God’s word. I’d rehearse that verse, “I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalms 139:14), when Lord knows, I didn’t believe it. There were so many things I wished He’d change about me. I spent so much time thinking that God must’ve made a mistake. I had become so confined to the restrictions of race, that I missed the fact that there has always been so much more to me. What mattered to God was what He put inside of me. That question hardened my heart and shaped my perspective. But when God told me He loved me, He didn’t mention anything specific. He said He loves me. Not the Black me, the creative me, the funny me, the professional me. Just me.
I’ve come to learn that the more you understand your identity in Christ, the labels given to you by the world aren’t definitions or restrictions, they’re actually indicators of the communities your purpose is connected to. My skin colour, my body, the way I speak, dress, my skills, abilities, and interests are more reasons why I can have reverence for the One who made me this way. The last time that I checked, no matter what shade of brown, I’m made in His image and His likeness (Genesis 1:26), so, if God likes me, I should like me too. I was listening to a sermon where the pastor said, “You ought to be curious about you!” When your curiosity is directed towards your identity in Christ, I can surely tell you what you’ll find is much better, more humbling, and unshakeable. It can be hard at times. Fighting to believe what God says about you when the world says otherwise, but I’m here to testify that God doesn’t make mistakes, and He’s not gonna start with you. You have life in Him. You have an identity in Him. And your value is determined by the price He paid. Remember that.
