A very strange and angry black man called Sergeant Willie Pete is enraged by me. He’s enraged because he took a comment I said in a You Tube video in which I was very honest and said that I really didn’t embrace my beauty until it was validated from external sources–yes; I didn’t think I was attractive because my whole life I was told that no matter my features, I was ugly because I was dark. THAT IS A FACT. THIS HAPPENED. The truth about colorism is, for many blacks, the darker you are, the uglier you are. So in the Sergeant’s mind, my “swirling advocacy” is an “ugly girl’s argument.” I only swirled in the first place because no black man was checking for me. The comment is executed with such a strange puffery and pride, as if to say, this black woman didn’t meet our standard–she wasn’t elevated because she didn’t deserve it. She’s too dark to be the prize. And you know what? He’s right. For all those new to this blog, this is what I look like.

 “Look at her. She looks like a man. Of course she married a white boy.” (Real comment)

Like I said, Sergeant Willie Pete is right, because many black men thought that I was either too dark (thus too ugly) to bring home, but I was good enough to use and impregnate. I was “ugly” to many black men because I am not light-skinned. And you know what? The majority of black women are my color and darker. So what does that mean? I’ll let you draw your own conclusions. (Note: For those of you who think you know my life, understand that this was not the case with my oldest daughter’s father, who doesn’t and never had a color complex. He simply was a man who looked very good on paper. He was and remains a loving father to his child.) But bringing that touchy subject up reminds me that when I was younger, I thought I had only three choices:

• Marry a felon;
• Accept scraps from the IBM’s (ideal black men) who could have their pick of everyone, at the same time;
• Or beg color-struck black men to love me despite my darkness

Since marrying a white man, many black men (and surprisingly, some black women) smugly say that one look at me, and they just know why I advocate swirling. Apparently to these people I’m a mud duck.

“Horse Face! Nobody wants you, you ugly dark-skinned bitch!!” (Real comment)

So this “mud duck” went elsewhere to find a community of people who would love her, celebrate her and support her. I’m a sellout of the worst kind. Oh. And Tommy Sotomayor thinks I look like a horse. Excuse me while I go chew some hay. I laugh to myself how these “men” who degrade and deride us are then outraged when we leave. We are not supposed to leave. We are to remain and accept our station. And my biggest crime? Well, that’s easy. I’m telling other black women who look like me that they have other options, and that they should go where their beauty is celebrated. Because apparently according to them, there is no problem. There is no colorism. The hatred of black women is imaginary.

Gosh. How can anyone stand the sight of me? I’m hideous, according to these men.

But then, what about this? Are we imagining this too? 55 percent of light skinned black females had been married, but only 30 percent of those with medium skin shade and 23 percent of the dark skinned females had ever been married. [SOURCE] Want to see a summary of the thesis?