Why I’m Writing This Now
Lately, I’ve been sitting with my reflection — not just the one in the mirror, but the one that lives inside of me. The older I get, the more I realize how much of my self-image was shaped long before I ever had a say in it. Between social media filters, cultural standards, and the subtle messages we absorb as Black women, it’s easy to lose sight of who we truly are.
Writing this is my way of coming home to myself — and inviting others to do the same.
“Sometimes the truth gets tangled in what the world tells you to believe about your body — especially when that body is Black and woman.”
The Mirror and Me
I’ve spent years learning to see myself. Not the “selfie” version or the filtered one, but the raw, unedited image that stares back at me when the world gets quiet. For a long time, I didn’t know that what I saw in the mirror wasn’t always real. I thought it was truth.
But sometimes, the truth gets distorted — reshaped by what the world tells you is beautiful, acceptable, or enough.
The Black Body in the World
Growing up, the Black body was both celebrated and critiqued — desired but misunderstood. Our curves were praised in one space and policed in another. Our hair was “too much,” our skin “too dark,” our lips “too full.”
It’s exhausting trying to exist in a body that the world wants to edit. That constant scrutiny can make you question what’s beautiful, what’s enough, and ultimately… what’s you.
“It’s not about changing how we look — it’s about healing how we see.”
The Quiet War
Body dysmorphia isn’t just about wanting to look different — it’s about struggling to see yourself clearly. It’s the quiet war between your reflection and your reality.
For Black women, that war can feel generational. It’s wrapped up in colorism, Eurocentric beauty ideals, trauma, and the never-ending expectation to be both “strong” and “flawless.”
Listening Instead of Fighting
Over time, I realized my healing began when I stopped fighting my body and started listening to it.
When I stopped asking it to shrink, to soften, to blend in — and instead asked, “What do you need to feel loved?”
That question changed everything.
“Our reflection doesn’t need to be fixed — it needs to be understood.”
A Love Letter in the Making
This exploration led me to my dissertation project— Sex for Every Body.
It’s a love letter and self help manual to the parts of ourselves that have been silenced by shame and distortion. It’s about intimacy, identity, and the sacred relationship we build with the skin we live in.
As I move deeper into this work, I’m learning that our bodies have always known the truth: we are worthy, even when we don’t recognize ourselves.
🌿 A Glimpse Ahead
Sex for Every Body is the next chapter in this conversation — one that explores how Black women experience intimacy, desire, and self-acceptance when body image and cultural identity collide.
My hope is that this journey creates space for honesty, softness, and collective healing. Because we deserve to see ourselves — fully, freely, and without apology.
According to LaShonda