From a young girl, I was taught that I was rare. Beautifully made. This beauty wasn't superficial. Nothing at all for the naked eye alone. This beauty was stirred up from the bottom. A hidden treasure from between shores. Something that was cultivated deeply within. Beauty so hidden and far-perlexed that it was untapped and unmanaged. Buried so deeply within that it took me years and years to discover. Some like to say, "I was today years old when..." I can relate, wholeheartedly. I often feel like my "today" just arrived in a package somewhat unidentifiable, but I'm pleased to have taken the time to begin unwrapping the gift.
I was laughing with a friend just the other day about a picture that I have in my wallet from 5th grade. A school picture. West Hartsville Elementary School, to be exact. I loved a good picture growing up. Striking a pose was it for me. So that day, for that picture, I can recall without error. I was early to rise. I have always had a love for trying on outfits the night before I needed to wear them. No particular rhyme nor reason. Just a girl and her fits, you know. So that black dress with the white top neatly placed underneath perfectly accented my little, black Mary Jane shoes and my, now, hideous white tights. And before my Claflin University days and being affectionately called "fresh wrap," there was my signature ponytail atop my head with two, small accent pieces pulled down from both sides of my temple. You know, just enough to crown my high cheekbones. On days when I wanted to spice things up, I'd pull down a piece from either side. Still laughable, but I enjoyed my signature look.
My beauty was awakening.
But listen, I was NEVER dressed, ever, until the finishing touches were added. Earrings, a ring of some sort, and you better know it... Vaseline. Vaseline was a staple in my household growing up. My Aunt Patsy put me on. She was dark-skinned. I was dark-skinned. Both of us sweeter than juice because we were black berries. She always talked to me about being beautiful and dark. Made me realize the beauty that was peeking through to the surface. And she also reminded me to shine it up. Never to be dull. To lack luster. Or confidence. Or a chance to shine bright and be proud of the skin I was in. I have always loved Vaseline. Still do. Always will. Now I know those lesson stretched far beyond merely applying shine and kitchen chats with my TT.
Fast-forward 20+ years later. Bath time routine
turned into a nostalgic moment for me. My son, Grayson, hangs with Mommy at night while my daughter, Addison, goes with her dad. Last evening, after Grayson was all clean, he marched to his room, grabbed his undies and started getting dressed. This wasn't a shocker. He's becoming more and more independent, but the beauty came full circle with what happened next...
Of course, I keep Vasline in his room on his dresser. It's everywhere around here. It serves as a reminded of who I am. My pride. Our heritage. The culture. A reminder to me that when I look good, I feel even better. Grayson normally complains about me shinning him up. Oh, but not last night. Before a mention, he grabbed the jar of Vaseline. He moved it from his left hand to his right to accompany me with the greasing down. He slung his legs up on the bed and passionately told me,"Hey, Mom, you missed a spot!" He didn't even make eye contact. Just watched to see if my hands would revisit the area neglected.
At 140, beauty and acceptance have arrived early. My boy knows he's worthy in his perfect, brown skin. And Addi gets it too. Fearfully and wonderfully added to my womb to be birthed into the world to display greatness. Accepting the final touches before launching into new adventures, even at bedtime. The shining. The intentionality behind the routine. Another way for me to ensure he values himself and finds no flaw being in his skin. His very brown skin. The greasing down and the checking to ensure spots aren't missed that need to be touched or even revisited. That's love of self.
Grayson's beginning to unwrap a gift that took me a while to accept. He made me so very proud. Letting me know that he's watching. And listening. And soaking in all that I say and do.
And he's letting me know that the Vaseline challenge doesn't stop here...It's on to more beautiful, brown skin long after our precious, summer nights.
I love this !