This is a picture of my son tanning himself in our backyard. To you it’s only another teenager trying to get a nice summer glow. To me, it’s an acceptance of a skin color…his own.
He was raised thinking that the skin he wore was wrong. As if you can change it, make it different somehow. His skin is the very reason he is in our home. Where he comes from does not accept dark colors as people. They do not get jobs or have opportunities so they do not have money and security. They are allowed to go to certain forest areas to collect wood for their stoves but that puts them in danger on being ruthlessly attacked. To eat, some resort to stealing. This in turn gives their “people” a bad stereotype.
My son’s biological parents didn’t have much and what they did have wasn’t what a family needs to survive and thrive. That’s why he is with us. We love him but that huge piece of the story breaks my heart. So even though we don’t look like him we have told him that his color is beautiful. A few years later, he believes us ♥️