I come from a middle-class family in Kerala. My skin is brown — brown enough to not fit the beauty standards this society has so rigidly defined. As I stand in front of the mirror, I see curves that are "too much," hair that is "too frizzy," skin that is "too dark." I have been conditioned to believe that this body — my body — is not enough.
The voices around me were never kind. Relatives, neighbors, even parents, in their ignorance, made remarks that stuck to my skin like scars. “You’re too dark,” they would say. “You’re fat, your back isn’t straight, your body isn’t right.” They’d tell me not to wear white — it doesn’t “suit” me. They’d mock me for applying kajal, saying it blends into my skin tone. Red lipstick? Unthinkable. All too bold for a girl with this skin.
Strangers stared. The media reinforced it. And slowly, I thought it was normal — all of it.
Somehow, I grew immune to these comments. Maybe I’d just heard them so often that my ears stopped reacting, and my heart learned to silently absorb it. But I now know, not everyone learns to survive that way.
Then came a life-changing situation in my life
When I was in 9th grade, I learned a lesson I will never forget.
There was a classmates of mine — quiet, focused, mature enough. She wasn't the talkative one like me. One day, while a group of us were walking to the bus stop, I made a careless comment on her. A comment I now know was body shaming.
Her response was immediate, calm, and powerful: "Everyone is not the same, and I don’t like these kinds of talks."
That moment split something open inside me.
It wasn’t just about what I said — it was about everything I had internalized and normalized all these years. About how I had allowed the voices around me to shape my own voice, and in doing so, I had hurt someone else. That day, I began to unlearn.
To you, the friend who stood up for herself — thank you.
This blog is, first and foremost, an apology to you. I’ve never said it out loud, but I’m saying it now — I’m sorry for the words I said. I regret them. Not just because they were wrong, but because they were rooted in everything I now stand against.
Your words woke something in me. You made me reflect. You helped me begin a journey of unlearning — of rejecting the narrow boxes society forces us into. You showed me, with just one sentence, that silence isn't strength. That calling people out isn’t rude — it’s necessary.
Since then, I’ve changed. I no longer laugh along to body-shaming jokes. I call out comments, even from relatives, when they speak about someone’s weight or skin. I’ve started reacting — not just for myself, but for anyone who's ever been made to feel “less” for simply existing in their own body.
Social media might be filled with filters and flawless skins, but real life is messy and beautiful — just like us. Brown, dark, curvy, slim, scarred, freckled — all of it is beauty. All of it is enough.
This blog is my open letter — to you, my dear friend, and to the world.
To you: I know you’re reading this. After that incident, life brought us closer, and we became the best of friends. But as our bond grew, I carried a weight on my chest — the guilt of what I once said. I’ve always held deep respect for you. Years have passed, our lives have changed, and though there may not be frequent messages or calls, you are still very much in my heart.
You are, and always will be, one of the best blessings life has given me. I will carry your words with me for the rest of my life. Thank you for your strength. Thank you for helping me become better. You are the nectar I found in a bitter world, and I will forever be grateful.
To the world: Stop commenting on people’s bodies. Stop glorifying one skin tone. Stop assuming beauty comes in a single size. Beauty has always existed in our differences — not in our uniformity.
We all have a responsibility to unlearn and relearn.
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