My name is Ree.
I was that brown girl—the one with dark brown skin, nappy coarse hair, and pretty white teeth. The one they frowned upon, the one they overlooked. I felt the weight of eye rolls and whispers, the sting of being unseen, the cold grip of fear and shame pressing against my chest. My skin, my voice, my presence—some tried to make them feel small, insignificant, unworthy.
But even then, I was strong. Even then, I pushed myself to strive.
I carry the strength of Rosa Parks, the voice of Martin Luther King, and the know-how of Mr. Louis Farrakhan. I stand tall, unshaken by the winds of doubt, unwavering in my purpose. I learned to smile through it all, to walk with my head held high, to carry my history with pride. Every struggle became a stepping- stone, every doubt fueled my fire. I embraced the beauty of endurance, the power of knowing that I belong—here, in this space, in this moment, in this world.
I am still that brown girl, but now I stride as a woman—bold, unbreakable, and destined. I carry the stories of my past, the voices of those who came before me, and the dreams of those who will come after.
I am strength. I am persevering. I am history in motion.
I am that brown-skinned girl. And I will never be overlooked again.