I have dark skin

I was born tanned. My mom said she drank kopi-O when she was pregnant with me. My brother is so much fairer than I do. No doubt, my mom drank fresh milk when she was pregnant with my brother. 

I grew up being called different names - hitam manis, Fatimah or Indonesian maid. And now I have new nicknames - Vietnamese, Burmese or the refugee. 

I grew up not having self-confidence because of my skin colour and plainer than the plain Jane features. I was compared to whoever closed to me and my parents were too busy to realise deep down, I was hurt. I felt lonely and hurt. I didn't understand why people didn't like me. But plastic surgery was out of my mind, still is, because I fear pain more than being judged as plain or not pretty. 

Now, it comes to my children. Both my kids are not fair too. Son should be tanned and stout.  But daughter? Errmm...she's going to face what I have gone through. And my husband knows it too well. I was comforted because he knows what to do when our daughter was ignored by our relatives. He carried her around and made her occupied. We didn't want to let her feel neglected or rejected just because she was not fairer or prettier compared to .....

My son asked, "Why does it matter if we are dark?"

"You don't understand. People don't like people who are dark or not pretty," I said.

"Human look at face. God look at the heart," Isaac uttered. 

"Yes, you're right. It's too bad I don't know God when I was a kid. If I know Jesus, I'm sure I won't feel so desperate and depressed," I snapped. 

"Yes. That's why we have the song, 'Jesus loves the little children,....red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in His sight,....,'" Isaac sang. 

I smiled. I thank God because my kids know Jesus at this tender age. They won't feel unloved even if the people around them choose to ignore them - that's because Jesus loves them as they are!