Pretty For a Black Girl

The topic I’m about to go into has affected me my entire life, but I have never fully opened my eyes to it until the impact it’s had on me recently. Now every time I post something like this I try to make a little disclaimer that I’m in no way an expert I just come from my heart and how I see things. I know with this particular topic affects each person differently. For some it’s a harder subject and are more passionate about it and for others they may be blind to it like I probably was.
I’m going to give a little background on myself  before I dive into how colorism pretty much slapped me in the face this year (and probably has  several times along the way) especially when it comes to the opposite sex.
Anyone who knows me knows that I identify with anything nerdy, fangirl, rock, and pretty much anything stereotypically labeled as “white girl behavior” (not my words) so naturally when it came to dating I gravitated to white men. I just had more in common with them because of my interests and black men didn’t really want me unless it was on a physical level. I won’t go into my whole dating history because I’ve touched on that in past posts and will probably refer to it in the future. When I moved to Chicago in 2008 my mind exploded. I was 25 at the time and in all my life I had never come across more than two or three black people who were like me. Through these artsy kids at Columbia College in Chicago I became introduced to artists like Kid Cudi, Childish Gambino, etc and my eyes opened even further that more people like me existed and I felt at home. Even though I was surrounded by all these hipster black kids (blipsters) I felt inadequate. I didn’t feel like I could compare. I went from feeling inadequate to just plain embarrassed. Here I am at 25 and in my adult life I’d never had a relationship with a black man. So when I should I have been opening up to these people who were just like me I sort of pulled back even further for fear of making a fool of myself in a relationship. Hell there’s one guy that I’m 90% sure could’ve been the one, but my fears made me friendzone him almost immediately (still kicking myself on that one). Don’t ask me why I had/have these fears, but they’re there and are very real.
By December 2012 I was back in Dayton and things had changed a bit here as far as culture goes or perhaps I see things differently, but it will never be on Chicago’s level. Now let’s fast forward to 2014. I flipped like a light switch is how I would explain it. I can only see myself with a black man. It’s not saying that I would never date outside my race again, because the color of someone’s skin is not a requirement for me when it comes to a soulmate. I’m not sure if it’s because there’s been so much death when it comes to black men, for instance this summer started off with Eric Garner, then my 16 year old cousin was murdered, then Michael Brown, and then John Crawford among a long list of others. I felt like I had been putting black men off  to the side and it was for some stupid fear that was all in my head. I’m mad at myself that I hadn’t been showing my black men love because of that, but I do know that when I look at my future I see a black man.
I’ve taken to social media (mainly Twitter) and various dating sites to find a potential mate or at least just to put myself out there. As a member of Match for several years I hardly get any messages at all and when I do it’s always a creepy dude in their 50s (ugh), but when I joined Black People Meet I probably got 20 messages the first day. I found one that really caught my eye (and of course he’s in Chicago) and we started (still are) talking. Through him I heard the term “redbones” for the first time. I was offended at first because it sounds like a derogatory term for a Native American. From a friend I learned it pretty much meant “light skinned woman” and depends on who you talk to, most people refer to biracial women as “redbones”. The definition didn’t make me any less offended because I see all black people as black and we all come in various beautiful shades. To top it off I never saw myself as “light skinned” and had never been looked at as such. I was mostly put off since there’s a stereotype that lighter women are extremely stuck up. Now we move to Twitter. I  started by following a few very attractive men with a lot of followers and suddenly within a month or so I go from 680 followers to over 1,100 and most of them men. I’ll admit it boosted my ego, then it quickly deflated when I would look at some of these profiles and notice these men doing one of if not all three of these things: 1. All of their #wcw’s, retweets, headers, or overall profiles were full of girls who were light skinned, white, or Latina women with hair down to their butts, 2. Saying they only like “snow bunnies” (white girls) and that black women “ain’t shit”, or 3. Completely ragging on dark skin girls and saying how ugly they are and other awful things. I realized they weren’t interested in anything I had to say (because if I mostly tweet about Doctor Who, Libra stuff, and live tweet shows we obviously had nothing in common), it was mainly my skin tone that appealed to them. When I had several guys mention to me that pretty much what was beautiful about me was my skin color I made a post on FB about how much this shallowness irritated me. I was surprised at the girls who commented and felt like I wasn’t appreciating who I was. The point of my post was if a man tells me he  thinks I’m pretty and the #1 or only thing he says that contributes to said beauty is my complexion then what that tells me is that if I was darker I wouldn’t be considered attractive.
It saddens me because these men most likely don’t get where this mindset comes from. In the days of slavery it’s common knowledge that the darker slaves stayed in the field and the lighter ones were allowed inside. To see other black people apply this logic to their own in this day and age boggles my mind. It breaks my heart when you see absolutely gorgeous dark skinned women who are put down solely on the color of their skin. Netflix recently added the documentary Dark Girls which covers this very topic. After watching this it’s upsetting to know that women are bleaching their skin, straightening their hair, and other extremes to fit this European idea of beauty. We have almost totally abandoned everything that makes us unique and closer to our heritage. I have no idea what has happened to the last few generations, but it’s puzzling to see that in the 70s we were so unified and now we’re back to this horrible divide. I know this beauty standard is shoved down our throats by the media and sometimes from family. Why we haven’t realized that negativity like this is put out there to make us feel bad about ourselves and further divide us is beyond me. Another group of people at fault for colorism is rappers. Lil Wayne made a controversial statement about not liking dark skinned girls and how they’re not pretty, but he’s not the first nor will he be the last to make such a statement. In most rap videos the love interest or random video girls are almost always of a lighter complexion or even Latina. They put out the message that beauty is a lighter skinned woman with long flowing curly hair, a small waist, and a big ass and if you don’t have that then you’re not beautiful. Another rapper notorious for this is Kanye West. A lot of people were upset with the original cover of his “Yeezus” album because of the supposed satanic imagery, but some black women were upset for another reason. He has two white women draped over him and there’s a black woman on the ground with glaring red eyes and a serpent tongue (the white women have red eyes too, but you have to really zoom in to see it). There’s also the rumors, almost from day one, of his obsession with white women and believing that in order to be successful you have to date white or at least close to it (e.g. Kim). It’s said in jest but there’s the saying “Behind every successful black man is a white woman.” We laugh about it, but it’s truly sad for some to believe that in order to make it to the big time this is what it takes.
Because of colorism this is why black women were so overjoyed when Lupita Nyong’o came onto the scene. Here was this absolutely gorgeous, humble, talented, strong dark skinned woman and we cheered and hoped that black people with this light skin vs. dark skin mentality would put it to rest, but it didn’t pan out like we hoped it would. Most were happy to finally see Hollywood fawning over a dark skinned woman, but then black men came in with their ignorant memes and cruel words. Even with her undeniable beauty and grace some black men drug her through dirt.
When it comes down to being confronted by the police, being followed in stores, stop and frisk, and other outrageous prejudice acts we’re all labeled as black no matter what shade we are. If you feel like a cop pulls you over unjustly they’re not going to check what shade you are and use the paper bag test on you. You’re black. Plain and simple. Why is it only us that put ourselves into categories? We’re all in this struggle together. We’ve come a long way, yes, but we have so much further to go and I feel the reason it’s taking longer and isn’t taken as seriously as it should be is because of the friction we cause amongst each other. When the black is beautiful movement came around it wasn’t “Black is beautiful… except you. You’re way too dark.” It meant all shades of black. It was meant for ALL black people to embrace themselves from the lightest of the light to the darkest of the dark. We’re all beautiful.
-Asia Aneka Anderson

Tragic Boyfriend Tales #2

        Boyfriend M and I started dating my junior year of high school. He was a senior. We actually started out as best friends and I figured since I knew he liked me then we could take it to the next step. Fast forward to the summer of that year. Summers were special to me because my little cousin, who was like a sister to me, came up to Ohio from Tennessee every summer. She was about 11 at the time and I was probably 17, but she was my absolute best friend. I told M this and that most of my summer would most likely be spent with her seeing as we only see each other three months out of the year. He was okay at first because I think he thought I was understating what I said.
        I brought her to a few events with friends, but we didn’t do too much with M because I could tell my cousin didn’t like him. Being the jealous type that he was he started calling me nonstop. One night when my cousin was sleeping over he called and started saying stupid things like “Is she there again?!” and “You care about her more than me.”… But of course. She was the only person in my family that understood me. He’d also say things like “Don’t you have other people who can watch her?!” Yes. But she’d rather hang with me. M took every chance he could to call me every name in the book from “stupid” to “bitch” to let it be known that he was my boyfriend and no one, not even family, should come before him. He was very aggressive about it and made it very clear that he hated my 11 year old cousin because we hung out a lot. Tiny back story: My cousin and I are very close because 1. we’re both Libras (birthdays are exactly 14 days apart) so almost everything about us from style to humor was the same and 2. when she was 3 her mom passed away from cancer. From the moment she was a baby I felt the need to look out for her. Now back to M. I explained all this to him and he proceeded to compare my motherless cousin to his father who had walked out on him at a young age BUT had recently reentered his life. By the time this phone conversation happened I was on my way out of the relationship which is why I stayed pretty calm despite the nasty things he said, but when he started talking about her mom it took me from 0 to 100. He said “So what if her mom’s dead? It’s probably better she didn’t know her.” The he continued to go on about his sob story about his father. I explained to him that it sucked his dad left, but he was trying to fix a wrong and he has access to tell his father how he feels and that he could pick up a phone to call his dad at any time. My cousin didn’t have that luxury. His response “She can talk to her. She can go to her grave.” I was beyond done with the relationship, friendship, and any other ship by that point. My cousin is yelling at him in the background and I’m yelling at him to never talk to me again and that it was over. In true abusive bf fashion M apologized profusely. Nope. Sorry. Not gonna fall for it. Saying hurtful things about me is one thing, but about my cousin, who was my world, was not going to happen. He tried to call a few times after that, but surprisingly it didn’t take him long to catch on.
        Fast forward about 4 or 5 years later. I get a call on my home phone from a girl. She said “I’m sorry to call you, but do you know M?” “Yes,” I told her. “You dated, right?” I was skeptical because I didn’t know who she was and how in the hell she had my parents number. She then told me who she was. She was M’s current gf and baby mama. She asked me if M had ever hit me. “Oh hell no. He knew better than that. He wouldn’t make it out alive if he even raised his hand.” She went on to tell me that he had hit her and that he would often call her names. I assume that day she stood up for herself and told him to stop yelling at her and he responded that she wasn’t the only one he talked to that way and if she wanted proof she could call me. “It was weird cause he gave me your number off the top of his head. He didn’t have to look it up.” Half a decade later and this dude still had my number memorized. Creepy. I admitted to her that he mouthed off a lot, but it never got physical. I tried to give her advice that even though I didn’t know her she didn’t deserve that. “No one deserves that. I know how he gets, how territorial and jealous he is. You’re the mother of his kid. Don’t put yourself through that and expose your daughter to that. He’s not worth it and it looks like he’s probably not going to change since he hasn’t since high school.” I’m not sure if she really listened to me. I hope she did. As for M somehow we’re FB friends, but I don’t talk to him and he doesn’t talk to me. I do hate that for several years after him I refused to date overweight men. I had it in my mind that heavy set men equals insecurity which leads to jealousy and controlling. It took me years to get over that because of this chump. More than that I can’t believe I lost my virginity to that loser. Ugh.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2014(c)
More than anything I wonder what it would feel like to wake up a different person. Someone who’s happy, always smiling, greets strangers, and has the ability to brush off negativity without a second thought. I want to know what it feels like to be a good person. I want to be someone who has positive people gravitate towards her. I want to wake up and know what it feels like to have people root for me and willing to pick me up when I fall. I wonder what it feels like to not have people disappear when times get tough. I’d like to know what it feels like being something other than second best. What would not being ignored feel like? I want to know what unconditional love feels like and not the kind of love that feels forced. I wonder what it feels like to love myself. I want to love me at my highs and my lows. I want to wake up and feel prepared to take on life. What does it feel like to be alive? I wonder what joy really is? I want to know what it’s like not being someone’s verbal punching bag, mainly my own. I’d like to know what it feels like not to be a disappointment. What does it feel like to really be heard? I wonder what it feels like to hear someone compliment me and actually believe it. I just really want to know what it feels like to wake up and not feel like my own enemy. I don’t want to be at war with myself, but the saga continues.
People who don’t really know me or only know me through social media don’t truly understand my love for writing. Ever since I was a little girl I wrote short stories, poems, fanfics, etc. I was even that kid that loved to write essays. All throughout school I was praised by teachers for my vivid imagination and the ways I could make characters come alive. I don’t know how or when my love for something that was my life vanished. It’s like losing a limb. There’s something very numbing about it. You don’t understand how lost I truly feel. Something that would take me hours to finish suddenly takes years. I’m 31 and things I wrote when I was in my early teens seems to be executed much more elegantly. I feel as though my talent is dying and slowly moving backward in slow motion. I’ve tried to much to revive it. I start numerous blogs, I share my shitty work, I try to write down what comes to mind, I put my characters through ridiculous scenarios to see if any storyline changes motivate me, I fail at trying to journal, and nothing works. Today something stuck in my head. It will be my new mantra. Whether it will stick or not will be seen in the future, but it’s given me more hope that any other phony uplifting words like “You can do it!” has.
"You have a story that needs to be told. If you don’t tell the world your story, who will?"
That’s it. I have many stories I want to write and if I don’t get out there and tell the world about it, the remaining inkling of talent I have will be wasted. The passion isn’t what it used to be, but I can’t picture myself doing anything other than writing. That’s all there is for me. Maybe the hardship of life robbed me of the one thing that brought me happiness, but I’m certain that I can find that happy again in my work. I can’t give up now. I can’t wait until I’m on my deathbed and feel regret for the things I never said.
I feel like there’s a change coming in my love life (at least I hope). I met this guy about two months ago on a dating site and we instantly hit it off. The only downside is that we’re not in the same state. I haven’t had anyone make me this happy in a while. He sends me ‘good morning’ texts and checks up on me to see how my day is and recently he’s been telling me a lot that he wishes I could be there to cuddle with and that he thinks about me all the time. That takes me by surprise because in all the years I’ve been dating I never heard those things from boyfriends let alone someone I just met. I know it’s strictly an internet and phone thing for right now therefore I’m not going to be the type to fall for every word, but it is incredibly nice to hear all these things. I won’t know for sure, until I meet him, if everything he says is coming from his heart or just something he thinks I want to hear, but I’m hoping for the best. After all I’ve been through I deserve a good man and I’m at a point in my life where I feel I’m capable to receive and give that type of love. I wasn’t that type of person before, but I’m older and wiser now. I told him that I believe we’ll get a real chance to give this a go since he lives in a city where I was and desperately want to get back to. I lived in Chicago for over 4 years and was alone the whole time. It would be nice to move back soon and finally get to explore the city hand in hand with someone else and make a real home there. I just have to be patient and keep telling myself that if it is truly meant to be then the universe will make a way for it to be so. I’ve got my fingers crossed.
Ignore me while I still try to find my writing mojo and bore you with random journal entries from my boring life. Gotta start over from somewhere, right? Right.

Tragic Boyfriend Tales #1

Boyfriend Q was the popular guy in 7th grade. A lot of girls wanted him, myself included. His best friend was a good friend of mine and I asked him everyday if Q had said anything about me and begged him to talk to Q for me. Eventually Q gave in and he was my boyfriend. I was stoked that me, the quietest shy girl in school, got the popular guy for once. At the end of the school year our grade went on a class trip to the amusement park King’s Island. We didn’t spend too much time together. He had his friends and I had mine. Whether I spent time with him there or not I had a kick ass time with my girls. I decided that before we left I’d go to the gift shop and buy him something cute with my allowance. I gave it to him when we got on the bus and went to sit with my girlfriends. As we were riding down the highway my friends kept bugging him about why he wasn’t sitting with his girlfriend. I heard him say something like “I’ll sit with her if she barks for me.” Total “She’s All That” moment. Of course his friends laughed and mine couldn’t believe he said it. I sat there trying not to cry, but that insecure girl inside me didn’t want to lose him so under my breath I did it. I barked. At least I thought it was under my breath cause his friends laughed. Upset, I yelled at him to give me my gift back and he refused. I stayed quiet the rest of the way home praying we’d get there soon so I wouldn’t have to see him again until the next school year. As we got back to the school parking lot I ran to my car still holding back tears so my parents would ask 21 questions. I watched him through the window of our station wagon as we pulled away and I saw him give my gift to another girl. My heart broke. I read recently online that he (or at least someone with his same exact name and age) was shot 5 times outside of a club downtown. He lived and there was no major injuries. Does it make me a bad person that I laughed?

-Asia Aneka Anderson
So I made a post yesterday about starting a series of short stories about horrible relationship experiences. So today I realized it’s perfect and I thought I’d take it a step further. I’ll write about horrible experiences with past boyfriends, friends, family, potential mates, etc. and call it “Tragic ____ Tales”. Each story will have one incident instead of just going through every fuck up the person has done in one story. Hopefully this will motivaete me to write more.
I need something to get my writing mojo back. Make like some wacky journal like series. I thought about making a “Tragic Boyfriend Tales”, but seeing as I haven’t had many relationships it would be short lived. Still might be worth it. I’ll think about it. I’ve dated some weirdos.

The 5 Stages Of Grief For The Undead

First denial.
I wandered through a heavy fog of denial for over a decade.              
The vision of a presumed happy childhood hid the gloomy truth.
Not my family. Not my father.                     
Every lie he threw my way I grasped.                                                   
I didn’t want to see the shroud of darkness covered our family in.
I was safe in sweet lies and denial.
 Anger set in.
When the fog cleared I gave into an anger I had never felt before.
Angry at myself. Angry at my father. Angry at my mother.
Angry at the world.
I became numb.
A rage consumed my body whole.
Lying underneath was a hurt little girl wondering where her father went.
On the surface was a woman betrayed and used.
Bargaining was short lived.
I blamed myself.
If only I had spoken up sooner.
If only I had tried to help.
I bargained with my God.
Let him live. Let him get better. Let him be the man I knew.
All I want is for him to be better.
He saw me as the enemy and his dealers as saviors.
I gave up.
My battle was lost.
Depression is an old friend of mine.
Nights spent crying myself to sleep.
Visions of my once loving father lying in a coffin.
The nightmares were never ending.
Each day I watched him grow weaker and weaker.
The only child he loved was heroin.
My heart grew heavy.
My love grew distant.
Then… nonexistent.
 Acceptance came naturally.
Suddenly the realization that the person I loved no longer exists.
All that remains is an empty shell that resembles my father.
Everything that made him my hero has vanished.
I accept that I will never see that person again.
I’ve mourned the person he was.
I’ll miss him.
I do miss him.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites
I’ve been called pretty, a great woman, funny, and ballsy, but I have never been called someone’s first choice.


Is it that happiness is but a dream?
So distant.
So far.
So seemingly unattainable we strive for something that may not exist.
What does this mean?
Are we fools to believe we can be happy?
Agree or disagree.
Agree to disagree.
Truth is, I know the answer.
Happiness is a figment of the imagination.
A figment we embrace because of the smile on our faces.
Truth is, life beats the hell out of us.
Where is that middle ground?
I don’t want middle ground.
I want that high road.
I want to feel this happiness for once.
I need to be happy.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

Imagine Love

Love is something very fictional to me.
Where is it?
Have I ever had it?
Am I incapable of receiving love?
I’ve had so many false starts.
I’m afraid to begin again.
I feel to ragged for the dating game.
I want a family.
I long for a soulmate.
I want a happily ever after.
I’m starting to feel as tough love isn’t fictional.
It just doesn’t exist at all.
One day someone will change my mind.
One day I’ll know love.
I want that day to be now.
I’ve felt so alone.
Unfortunately I’ll have to wait for my Prince Charming and hopefully he’s just that.
The one to make this fiction true.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites


I had dreams once too.
It is a mystery as to where they went.
Deep down I know they’re there.
It’s my passion, my ambition, that has vanished.
These dreams are in reach, but my confidence weighs to heavy to reach them.
One day I’ll grasp it.
One day I’ll live my dreams.
No more waiting.
Time to wake up and take action.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

Work In Progress

I am a storyteller.
These tales I tell extend from my brain to my fingertips.
My vision is blocked and the words are jumbled.
A backlog of literature sits in my mind.
Narratives of mothers and daughters.
Adventures with friends searching for a place in life.
A masterpiece of loniless and embracing many flaws.
Heartbreaking sagas of lost love and broken relationships.
The discussion in comedy of a hellish existence.
These tales are worth telling, but hard to say.
I chisel away this chaos with the tip of my pencil.
Pulling the script from my very being.
This is the life of an artist.
A life I would never exchange for another.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

Tough Exterior

Hard shell.
Gentle soul.
A feeling of do not disturb.
So much I’ve learned from you, but do not say.
I don’t know how to say it.
I keep my distance.
Your distance is further.
Can a bond stay strong?
Is it broken?
We are just existing.
Lives hanging in existence.
It’s unclear how we go back.
Two hard shells.
Two gentle souls.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

What Is A Friendship?

My family as close as blood.
To be there for the smiles and the tears.
Friendships I have created only stay for the smiles.
When the tears start to fall you all vanish.
I’m left alone.
I deal.
I cope.
I move on.
I reopen doors.
This cycle has made me angry.
I become distant and cold.
I’ve been through a lot only to walk hand in hand with myself.
You resurface when the struggle is gone.
I foolishly allow it.
Wanting human interaction so bad I ignore what’s good for me.
I’ve learned a lot.
I’ve become strong.
My journeys alone build me.
This will change.
No more resurfacing in my life.
I’d rather walk this life alone than be consistently let down.
In the end I know that at least I’ll always be there for me.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites


I know I sort of abandoned this blog. It happens. My motivation and creativity isn't what it used to be. Writer's block is a bitch, that's for sure. Then again no one is really reading this. That's still not an excuse for blowing off something I used to love to do more than anything. For right now I'm trying to catch this blog up with my Tumblr. There's still several poems and posts that I have not added here from there. I want to share all of my writing with both sites to expand my audience. I also have a poem that I'm currently working on that's pretty tricky for some reason. In addition to that I have a few opinion posts I want to do, but in pure perfectionist fashion I can't move on to do those until that poem is done. I feel like a chicken with it's head cut off if I don't work on these small projects in order. Hopefully I'll have all of those up within the next week. I also have ideas in my mind to beef up the major stories I'm working on. For most of them I've struggled with how to tie everything together, give the characters depth, and make it meaningful and I think I've found something that will at least make things better and perhaps easier to write. Stay tuned if you're actually reading this.

The Lyrical Body

I have lyrics that flow through my veins.
Harmony that leaks from my tear ducts.
“Why do I need music lessons?” She asked.
“I am music.”

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites

Better Than

My reflection doesn’t make eye contact.
I thought this was over.
Hold your head up.
Sometimes it’s a thought we can’t shake.
The plague of not feeling good enough.
If only the thoughts were “you are better than.”
It is a long process.
Along the way others poison your mind.
“You’re not skinny enough.”
“Don’t you smile?”
“You’re too short.”
Block it out.
Hold your head above the negativity.
You are better than.

-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites