A Letter to Nina

It’s taken me a while to write… primarily because of the social and political events that have occurred. I wanted to write, but I wanted to focus on the point. The point is Her.

I originally wanted to write about colorism in the black community, hence the candle’s name “A Letter to Nina”. This candle was inspired by Nina Simone’s song Four Women, in which Nina describes characteristics and experiences of black, yellow, tan, and brown-skinned women. In an interview Nina spoke about the inspiration of this song and that it came from her experiences growing up as a black-skinned woman and how she was treated in comparison to other black women. However, as we have recently witnessed with Megan Markle, no matter how white you may appear and even consider yourself, those who want to use your blackness against you can and will. I loathe those people, and I send love to those who must navigate their blackness in the realm of whiteness that they exist. You are loved and your choice of blackness or whiteness is affirmed.

Four Women made me think about the genetically less melanated black people. The language of inclusivity can be tricky, and the word ‘melanin’ is often used to show pride in blackness. However, we have black folk who have no melanin and are no less black. How do we possibly talk about blackness while using words that are not inclusive to black people? This point is for Her.

Her Story

I remember meeting her when I was assigned to help one of our teachers who needed support with instruction. She was the new kid. Spunky. Outspoken. Outgoing. Intelligent. She was like a light in a dark room, and she could not be contained. For some reason, this child loved coming to my group and chatting it up with me like a little old woman. The old folks might say “she’s been here before”.

She always thoroughly explained her answers and kept the decorum for the rest of the group. Her grayish-green eyes hid behind her glasses and she seemed cross-eyed at first glance. She had bright puffy blond hair, like a rabbit’s tail. She oddly reminded me of one of my friends growing up who came from a Creole family and was very light skin. Same hair color, same eye color. One day I shared with her that she reminded me of my friend and that her skin, hair, and eyes were beautiful.  I brought a picture of my friend and she was so excited to know that she was not alone. There were other black people who looked like her even if she had never seen them before.

She had a strange habit of placing her face close to her screen while reading on the computer. I initially thought that maybe she needed a new glasses prescription, but I wasn’t sure. She would tell me she was okay and proceeded to make the font as large as possible so that she wouldn’t lean into the screen so often. I began to bring my iPad so she could just zoom in and out at leisure. Every class she would take my iPad and bounce around the room because she no longer had to click the ‘zoom in’ button on Chrome. At the time, I didn’t think twice about it because the problem had been resolved and she was a happy functioning student.

I moved back overseas, this time to Lagos, and I remembered why I loved West Africa so much. There was a sea of people who looked just like me around every corner. Like her, I no longer felt out of place. One day while out for a walk I saw a child playing that reminded me of Her. I thought about how she was doing and how she probably had her new teacher on their toes.

Pandemic. I returned home.

When I came back to my school to work, I assumed a new role that allowed me to go from class to class for instructional support. I found her… nose right up to the screen during a zoom session trying to problem solve during math. Then it hit me. It dawned on me that she could have albinism, which I know affects the vision of those who have the condition. Inquiring minds wanted to help Her because I knew she was no longer functioning normally. I couldn’t help but wonder how the heavy screen time was affecting her.

Advocacy

I talked with her teacher to see how often she was struggling with her screen and the teacher apparently saw that she was often up close to the camera. I advised the teacher to help her make her screen larger to take the strain off her eyes. We then spoke with the nurse to see if she could check her records for anything odd and if she could reach out to the family because I suspected there might be a form of albinism occurring with this student. The nurse came back a few days later and told me she observed her and that she didn’t look albino. She was just light skin with vision problems. Because I didn’t feel like going full-blown black activist on her, I continually asked them to look into it more. I asked several times and finally, some action was taken to start the process of helping her with her vision. I cannot implore enough that we have to advocate for issues with all students, and especially with those who are in a minority of some form. This is for Her and for others like Her.

Final Say

I sometimes wonder how it might feel to be on the other end of black where nobody recognized that a lack of melanin doesn’t make you any less black. As confident as she seemed, she still needed somebody to recognize her beauty and her skin, and her vision. It mattered, even to a 9-year-old to be seen and to be recognized in her difference and to be confirmed in who she was. It mattered that there was somebody to recognize she needed help even if she didn’t know she needed it. She matters. They matter.

In Africa, they often kidnap children that suffer from albinism. Their rarity is a commodity that is dangerous and mothers fight to keep their children safe and alive. For her and for them, I present and write this first ThinkPiece.

1/3 of the proceeds from our candle “A Letter to Nina” will be donated to the Salief Keita foundation that helps raise global awareness around albinism and those who live with the condition.