‘My mum said immigrants are dirty’
‘You look like a monkey with all the black hair on your arms’
‘You look like a witch’
A small selection of what I heard growing up surrounded by mostly blonde and blue eyed kids in Germany. They remained stuck inside of me like little daggers. Over time you don’t notice them as much. You get used to the numb pain. And you don’t notice how those daggers start directing your life. Your choices. Your words.
But why would I be surprised to hear those at school? It started a lot earlier. At home.
‘She is not as beautiful as her cousins’
I wasn’t supposed to hear this. An overheard conversation between three women. I don’t remember if it came out of my grandmothers or my aunts or even my mothers mouth. My 8 year old brain has locked that memory away. They say that’s a protective trauma response.
But my body remembers very well how it felt. Something innocent, glorious and happy in my child soul cracked into pieces that day.
Shame entered through that crack.