Time and time again, I get on Social Media and find black women living their best lives. I see afros and twist-outs galore, beautiful light and dark melanin skin glowing, and positive images of black women being brought to light. I’ve seen pictures of college graduates, doctors with kinks and coils, and teens bringing justice to victims on buses, trains, and planes. Unfortunately, it seems like all the media ever sees is our hairstyles, our music, and our dance moves.
I have always been a scary child, afraid of my own shadow type of kid. One day, I was looking at my hands and noticed a dry skin patch in between my thumb and my fore finger. I picked at the skin and made it peel back. Eewwww!! There was skin underneath my dead skin?! It was disgusting and frightening at the same time. I ran to tell my mother and she took me to the hospital. The doctor explained that I had a skin disease called psoriasis. I immediately freaked out. A skin DISEASE! “Am I going to die?” I asked, the doctor responded with a light-hearted laugh and told me that psoriasis wasn’t a serious disease and that, when the rashes flared, all I needed to do was put hydrocortisone cream on them to stop itching and reduce the dryness of my skin. I knew nothing about this skin disease or why I had it. But I did some research and thought I’d share it with others like me who have never heard of psoriasis or have it and don’t understand it.