Brown is so pretty.

Especially on black skin.

Its so magical that God created millions of variations.
I like that even on my own body I can peel away my clothes and find so many different tapestries.
My legs scarred from eczema have an art of their own.
Shades of caramel merge into deeper shades of black.
My bum. My little black bum is shaded with evidence of its stretching and growing, punctuated by a little birthmark that is yellow.
Also (by black superstition) as evidence of my Malawian heritage (because as my friend Bucie once told me, if you have this mark it means you are not from here, here being South Africa).

This melanin magic is not a myth, it’s a real thing.
A thing I also love uncovering on the bodies I like to fall asleep next to.

Melanin is a source of something.
It is a well of ancient information coded into our beings.
I have come to see it as a gift.
That is passed on through generations.
It contains a source of strength we all seem to have whether we asked for it or not.
It is resilience. An innate property that black people have been burdened with— but also something upon which they have been blessed.

Brown is so pretty.
Especially on black skin.

   -Nonjabulo Kandawire 

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