Dear lovely Nigerian girl:
I hope you and your family are wonderful. How is your little brother? He must certainly be grown up now. I remember our younger days when both of us would run around with no hindrance. I was always (and still am) in awe of your beauty, and I always said to my friends that when the two of us grew up, I would marry you. Your flawless dark-brown face was always lit up with your endless smile, and I always feared your lovely eyes could see through me. It has certainly being a long time since the both of us talked.
I am writing you because I recently read an article saying that well more than 60% of Nigerian women bleach (or 'tone') their faces so that they can become whiter (Effects of skin-lightening products report). They use endless supplies of whitening creams and mixtures of chemicals they hope will make them look white. They claim that the whiter they are, the more successful they will be because it would be easier to find jobs. Or that it makes women more beautiful and confident in themselves, and easier to find a husband.
It is very sad to hear these things, and I hope you do not believe any of these lies. The Black skin is as beautiful a skin as there ever was. And when you tone yourself, you deny yourself that beauty, and most importantly deny yourself your identity. Our skin is our first form of identity; it makes us who we are, contributes to our image, and should make us special. I hope you know this. If you tone yourself, who do you become? You lose your pride and the beautiful skin that gives every Nigerian boy sleepless nights. Don't let any one deceive you by saying that it will become easier to find a husband. If a man prefers that you whiten your skin, try to find him a visa so that he can go to London. He is a wannabe oyibo, and if he thinks so lowly of you to allow you to change your identity, what more will he ask you to sacrifice... your life? You might become whiter, but at what cost? Those chemicals kill (kidney damage) and maim many. You may gain the job you desire, but you are no longer you. It was a different person that got that job.
I want to be able to recognize you as the girl I used to love, and although this love may not be reciprocal, just know that there is someone out there who loves you just as you are; especially those sharp dark brown eyes of yours. As Tuface once beautifully sang, you are an African Queen. For Black is indeed beautiful.
With love,
A Nigerian boy
