This is the story of how this series came to be.

Last summer I was driving home from work and felt the need to stop at a local grocery to get some malt beverage. As I was walking inside a young man under a hoodie was exiting, we passed each other without saying anything as his head was held down because he was on his phone. Moments later I heard someone call me by my nickname, “Kemar?” He told me he saw the car outside and realized it was me so he came back to check. We greeted each other with a signature hand gesture, which followed with a painfully awkward pause. His face was barely recognizable. He was bleaching. In life they say to each their own, but there are some things that don’t fit that narrative.

I asked him, “What’s that man, what’s with the bleaching?” He replied, “You know how things are, I have to be trendy and the girls love the light skinned look,”

I said, “Oh, light skin?” At this point he raised a spliff to his lips somewhat reluctantly, took a puff then nodded in approval. With a deadpan expression on his face he extended his hand and said we’d catch up a next time. He turned and exited the grocery store clad in his protective overall to prevent the sun from impeding his bleaching process.

The thing is, self hate works on itself so well that some of us willingly oppress ourselves. You do not need to erase your blackness. If you are bleaching for acceptance and reading this, look at the photos once more; you’ll get the picture.


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Your soul is tormented because the vessel it lives in is conflicted. Do not bleach your temple to appease the viewers