Noire

I remember liking a boy in the second grade. I told one girl. She told everyone. He found out. Then him and his friends called me black and ugly. They all liked the new Spanish girl with the pretty long hair and hat that matched her uniform skirt. I was Pecola Breedlove. I wanted sapphire blue eyes to void the dark skin. When I was 13, I bought blue contacts. Finally, I'd be getting what I wanted. All of the guys would fawn over me and my big blue eyes. I wouldn't be ugly anymore. They were difficult to put in. I had to wake up an hour earlier than I normally would just to put them in. Then, my eyes were itchy and irritated all day. I was constantly rubbing them or running to the restroom to make sure they were still in tact. It blurred my vision. Since I never got fitted for them, they weren't comfortable to wear at all. So here I was, walking around with these blue eyes that I coveted for so long and I literally couldn't see through them. I soon came to the conclusion that, I didn't want to use them anymore. These eyes, being this other person that all the boys would like, I didn't want to be that. So I took out the contacts that night and left them on my dresser. I threw them out after they dried up and cracked apart. If guys didn't like me because I had deep, dark, almost-black irises, to hell with them. People forget that even the moon hugs the ebony midnight sky, and it is unafraid. I'm not ashamed of my blackness.