Today is Easter Sunday, and all of the little children are running around in their new Easter outfits. As I dressed to visit a friend’s church, I couldn’t help but remember the days when I once was a little girl running around in my Easter outfit. As a small child, I thought I primarily cared about playing with my friends as long as I could, but as I sat amongst the congregation I couldn’t help but realize the little girls and what they were wearing.

All the children looked adorable, but the difference among the facial expressions and manner of the girls weren’t as adorable because it showed a shocking truth that I once experienced. I witnessed that the children with the new dresses, stockings, shoes, and hair accessories were vibrant and more willing to speak to unfamiliar faces; whereas, those who attire seemed to have been previously worn didn’t have as bright as a smile on their faces and were reluctant to speak to guest. This recognition shocked me because I remember coming to church on Easter morning and feeling as if I belonged with everyone else because I did have a new outfit. I also remember seeing those children less fortunate than I was and feeling sympathy.

It’s weird to think that as a child I associated eagerness to talk to strangers with feeling belonged. And I felt belonged because I felt pretty. And I felt pretty because my mother and everyone around me told me so. With this new found confidence, I could have ruled the world for a day.

Now, fast-forward nineteen years and I can recognize the same glimpse of assurance in little girls. Will the thought of having new attire and constant compliments ever stop? Or will it get worse?

The definition of black beauty is one of those ambiguous definitions where you are not sure where it began or who created it, but you know that it is there. Personally, I would say that growing up I had it hard when it came to my image. I started out as the cute little girl with the long hair, but when I became older it seemed as if all of my cuteness ran away and hid from me forever. I was never the "cute girl" in class no matter how expensive my clothes were. I was too afraid of what others would say to try to do something different with my appearance.

To make matters worse, I had the strictest parent in world! She did not believe in "enhancing" ones appearance with beauty products or tight-fitting clothes. I wore pigtails for half of my childhood because my mother did not know how to style hair, and we were not as financially stable as I wanted to be to go to a salon every week. 

Even if I would have enhanced my beauty with material things, I was still the darkest and skinniest girl in class. If I told you about all of the hurtful things that I was called while growing up, a new website would need to be made! It just seemed as if I could never get a break. I would turn on the television every day and see Tyra Banks and Beyoncé and say to myself "If only I had their skin complexion." and "If only I had her breast and butt."

I struggled with image issues until I finally sat down in front of the mirror and made myself say I was beautiful every day. It was far from easy. Some days telling myself that I was beautiful would bring me to tears. So I began thinking, what is beautiful? Does someone who my age and level of intelligence telling me that I was beautiful mean that I am? Or was I just beautiful that day?

I continued to ask myself these questions every day until recently when I stopped worrying about myself and noticed that I am not the only one who is confused about what to call beautiful. For white girls, it's simple; long hair, tanned skin, big breast, small waist, and pearly white teeth. For black girls, it's far from simple. You have to consider the region, the country, the background of the judge, and everything above. We look on the internet, or watch television, or read a magazine and see every beautiful black woman, but those women do not look like the average black woman. So are those images of black beauty false or missing key points? I'm not really sure, but I do know that the definition of black beauty is problematic and needs a change.