Manifesto to The White Boys

Within me, there’s a small light of deep resentment. Deep resentment towards myself especially, because doesn’t matter what I do, I don’t seem to fit the beauty standards anywhere in this world. I once dreamed of becoming a model. A model in a world that seems to only want straight, light-hair, fair skin, and sky blue eyes. A model in a world that pushes you to the limit every time and categorizes you as an “alien”, both on paper and in society. Then I decided I couldn’t possibly be a model. I couldn’t keep up with the expectations, however, from the trees above me came a cold breeze, whispering in my ear how beautiful I was because of my “exotic, dark curly hair", brown eyes, and foreign accent. By listening very closely, I realized it too, had assumptions of what I was or would be like. Yes, they firmly believed I was more attractive than they ever expected, but in the end, it was only a matter of being different, new, and not really deemed as beautiful as everything else in the world. I then, found myself in a never-ending forking path, trying to figure out what it was that made me less in the eyes of everybody else. I straightened my hair, I dyed it, I learned to speak like them, I wanted to be them. But the truth is, I didn’t really grow up fishing on the weekends, nor playing football in an extensive backyard. Yes, my family was well-off, but you would’ve seen me climbing up a mango tree rather than watching the “Super Bowl”. And, as I keep traveling and getting to know new cultures, I keep seeing the same patterns I always saw. I am tired of it. No, my name isn’t Cole, and no I don’t have blue or green eyes. Yes, I have curly hair but it isn’t blonde, my vacation spot isn’t Hawai'i and I don’t go to fun European family trips. I used to wish I was like you, but now, now I despise you. I hate the fact that you are deemed "pretty" solely for the fact of wearing long sleeve shirts and Lululemon shorts. I hate the idea that you are the perfect boy because your family is well put. You don’t have to move a finger and can easily fake a perfect life on social media. I hate the way you know you are the standard and thus exploit it. Whenever you look over your surroundings and realize what’s your impact over our society, give me a call, and then, maybe we’ll talk. But being in your position must feel nice, doesn’t it?