A Pretty Picture on Paper

A Pretty Picture on Paper
By:  Doris “Sista Sabrina” Hayward

Being born with a body completely covered with hair has made life kind of unfair for me—  I am a full-figured African-American female forced to face masculine matters such as:  beards, mustaches, razor bumps and razor burn.

In my eyes, I have never been much to look at, especially if you peel off the pounds of make-up that I paint on during the morning.  No matter what, when or where, mirrors have always reflected a defaced face to me.  My island-toned cinnamon skin is speckled and spotted with blemishes and blotches caused by ingrown hairs.

For years, I have despised my appearance.  I was about 9 years old when I began to notice the marks and scars.  Since then, taking pictures has been torture.  Family photos, class pictures, snap-shots and whatever— I hated them all.  I often wondered, “Who would want to see me, when I didn’t even want to see myself?”  But, I’d still stand in front of cameras and hide.  I would hide behind my smile. Oh, and my smile just so happened to be filled with gaps and spaces.  (Lord have mercy).  Just picture endless tracks of block metal braces, in that mouth and on that face—I was a sight to see.  But for some deep desirable reason, I’d anxiously anticipate the developed proofs with a sincere hope that I would look a little bit pretty just this one time.  Negative, it just didn’t happen.

Messed up from the neck up and the world made sure I knew it.  Wherever I went there were people whispering, pointing and laughing at me.  A psychiatrists would have probable diagnosed me as being Paranoid and Schizophrenic, but this was no personality disorder.  This was no figment of my imagination.  This was my life that I lived day by day.  It was difficult to bounce back from all of the insults back then.  I have been called ‘monkey child’.  I have been called ‘he-she’ and ‘I don’t know what.’  I have even encountered people calling me, Ugly. 

Needless to say, I had very few friends throughout elementary school and high school.  But that was cool, because I wasn’t very comfortable in crowds.  Ironically, I somehow found beauty in everything else, everywhere else and in everyone else, except for myself.  I found my refuge in writing. 

Bless the Lord, college brought about transitions.  There were notable significant differences.  For instance my college id cards were not so bad.  The small square photos had actually minimized my imperfections.  It sort of shrunk and blurred out my blotches and blemishes.  I looked alright in them— maybe kind of cute.

My social life took a turn in college as well.  I had several friends, whom I chilled with daily.  And those friends had other friends, which surprisingly made me semi-popular.  I would have never expected people to actually know my name.  But, they knew me by default and that just wasn’t the same. 

Even my writing took a turn for the better. I went from writing rhymes, as Mc Brean, to writing the news under Doris Hayward.  In my highest form of creativity, I penned the name, Sista Sabrina (Poetess extraordinaire).

In 1997, I started interning at the university’s radio station and newspaper.  It was then that I understood character and value.  Voices over the airwaves and words on front-page erases people’s faces and transmits personality.  I was no longer invisible.  These mediums brought me to life.  I was audible and printable; and it was all me baby:  my creativity, my personality and my own identity.  It wasn’t until then that I really started feeling like somebody.  “I Am SOMEBODY.”

During the month of March 1997, I was born-again.  God broke the mirrors and captured my soul two days after my biological birthday.  I became more visible at the Widener University’s 1st Annual Black Student Union (BSU) Talent Show.  I captivated an entire audience through my poetry.  There were no jokes and jeers just opened-mouth stares.  The poem was entitled “Look” and all eyes were on me.

With those emotions bubbling and boiling for what seemed like weeks on-end, I mustered up enough gumption to submit several pieces of poetry to the Widener University’s Student Literary Journal.  To my surprise each piece appeared in the publication, bearing the name of my new nature, “Sista Sabrina”.

And it didn’t even stop there.  I was also featured in the Widener Magazine which was distributed to its alumnae and alumni.  The poem was entitled, “Shackles”; and I heard that the publication circulated to approximately 10,000 households or more.  Believe it or not, the poem was accompanied by my photo—  And honey I looked good in it too.  I was finally truthfully smiling and not hiding hoping for miracles.  Although the photographer had touched-up the photo, I was still ecstatic because I was finally pretty. I was pretty with my dreads and afro-centric head wrap.  Even with my nose-ring I was still pretty.  I was more than grateful.  I was more than visible.  I was blessed.

Afterwards, I looked forward to taking more pictures and performing more of my poetry.  I felt so fulfilled nothing could knock me off of my cloud.  Having to stay in school for an extra semester didn’t even dimmer my glimmer. I was living life in the sky.

After graduating, in May of 1998, with a BA in Communications I sat down at the dining room table to flip through my yearbook. I turned page by page expecting to see myself in other photos aside from the normal formal line up.  When I reached the section that I was supposed to appear in I couldn’t find my face.  The Nobody Syndrome kicked in with vengeance.  I was crushed and almost in tears, when I remembered that my picture must have been put into the 1997 edition of our yearbook.  That was the year I was supposed to graduate.

Before placing a call through to the university to order the preceding edition, I kept thumbing through the book. Then suddenly something happened!  I came face to face with my poetry. I gasped with disbelief!  There I was sprawled all across several full length pages.  This was the most beautiful and the most truthful picture of me that I had ever seen!  Oh child I looked sooooo good!  I felt like I couldn’t even fit into a color wallet-sized photo.  I was bigger and better— I was full-figured with full-coverage— This was positively me.  Pretty.

Although I am still uncertain about who was on the yearbook staff at that time, I would like to say “Thanks for capturing my good side!”  With all my heart, soul mind and strength, I pray that God blesses the lives of that yearbook staff forever and ever more.  Somebody on that staff saw my need; and it is because of them that I love myself right now.  Just from how they decided to picture me has actually given me what I need to look closer and deeper at whom I truly am.  “I am a new creature, old things have passed away”— (2nd Corinthians 5:17).  I am no longer invisible or inferior.  I am no longer bumpy, blotchy or scaly.  I am no longer nappy-headed, fat or obese.  I am a child of God—  “For in him we live, and move, and have our being...”  (Acts 17:28).  I am an author, poet and writer.  I am Somebody.  “I am Sista Sabrina. 

“Beauty appears in mirrors and in the eyes of those looking to make assessments.
Identity lifts, tucks and quickens; which is a whole heaven of a world different.”
—SistaSabrina