"Your Black is Beautiful, Baby."

I'm not going to be able to be my usual flippant self in this entry. Something happened that made me just want to cry then dry my eyes and find somebody to smack. My heart-breakingly handsome, extremely thoughtful, highly sensitive and deliciously dark-skinned son informed me that he did not like his skin and wanted to be "just a little bit brown" instead. It took me off guard. I mean he's only four, and until now, I never knew he had a problem with his self image. Why does he have a problem with his self image? Can somebody tell me? I mean, really. Is there any good reason for a child that young to hate the skin he's in?

Anyone who knows us also knows that my son adores his mother. That's an understatement. The boy thinks I hang the sun every morning just for him. He was born his daddy's biggest rival for my attention, and he recently announced to his doctor with great pride that "Mommy is going to be my wife when I turn 25." So, knowing how he worships the skin I'm in, I pointed out that his skin ans my skin are close to the same shade. He quickly pointed out that his daddy and little brother are just "a little bit brown." I kept trying to find ways to quickly end the conversation until one look in his persistent and teary eyes told me he was very serious. Now it was my turn to start blinking back the sting behind my eyes. I needed something, anything to help me show him how beautiful his skin is. Then I saw it.

My new copy of Upscale magazine with Tyrese on the cover looking smooth wearing a tailored suit and all of his glorious blackness.

I showed him the magazine and asked him, "who does that look like?" He looked at the magazine, then at me, then back at the magazine and finally said with a piece of a smile, "Me?" I smiled back at him. We talked about how cool the man looked and how special he must be to be on the front of Mommy's book. When the conversation waned, he asked, "Am I really going to look like that when I get 25?" (because to him 25 is grown up).

My answer: "Yep, well, that is if you don't turn into just a little bit brown." He had a puzzled look on his face and asked, "Mommy, do you like that boy [Tyrese]?" I knew where his thoughts were going. "Oh, yes, baby," I said, "you know Mommy loves a chocolate man." I hugged him close, and after about a minute he pulled away, head held high, bird-chest puffed out. "Then I'm going to be a chocolate man just like that boy!"

Those. Those are the moments that both warm and pain a mother's heart.