5,151 Miles of Worries

As I was writing this entry, it became more personal than I had originally intended. At first I thought my worry was a surface level one, but as I began to write more and more, I found that perhaps I have much deeper worries than I had thought.

It all started with the fact that lately I have been thinking about all of the things that are going to have to change in my life when I go abroad, and the one thing that I have been most nervous about is my hair. Because, contrary to popular belief, I don’t have long, silky blonde hair like my mother. All my worries surround the fact that I need a lot of moisture in my hair, since it’s on the dry side instead of greasy, and I can’t take the long showers to detangle it like I do at home, yadda yadda…

But I’ve realized something more than all of this. As a multi-racial female who essentially looks entirely black, I have way more worries about traveling abrade than this surface level crap. They are quite similar to the ones I have at home, except I’m afraid they’ll feel more pronounced. I bombard my mind with questions like “Will people talk about my skin?” “Will they hate my hair” “Will I ever feel accepted no matter how hard I try?” At least at home, I know there are a handful of people who will love me despite what I consider my flaws. But no matter how much I say that I am unapologetically me, I still feel like there are always eyes sewn to my back as I walk down the street.

I don’t know how used to people like me Italians are. My brother likes to bring up the soccer player Mario Balotelli and the racism that he has had to deal with despite being raised Italian. And if there is racism still here, in my own country, why would I expect anything different anywhere else? But I guess this is where I have to remind myself not to judge anywhere else based on America. America is full of its own issues and backwards ideologies and images of true beauty. It’s a baby country compared to most, if not all, others. It’s still learning itself and how to accept all of unique facets.

All I guess I really want is for this country that I have fantasized about to accept me with warmer arms than I feel my home ever has. The last thing I want is to feel like stranger. Better yet, the last thing I want is to be seen as strange. At home, I already see myself that way. It would only be more heartbreaking to travel  five thousand miles and be treated as I do in America, as mediocre, undesirable, and weird.

But who ever said the grass was truly greener in first place?

With Wanderlust,



One thought on “5,151 Miles of Worries

  1. Hey, I don’t know how close you think we are, but I want you to know, we are so much closer than you perceive and it breaks my heart to hear you say you feel like a stranger; the eyes sewn to your back as you walk down the street are the eyes of those who think highly of you, but are not bold enough let you see their eyes sewn. You are so beautiful, not the stereotypical beautiful blue eyes blonde hair, but the exquisite powerful hair that screams I am gorgeous and I don’t need to be told. You carry yourself in such a kind and caring way that draws people to you. That “weird” you describe yourself as(?) That’s called unique, you have a beautiful spirit that brightens peoples’ days, you are so much more than you realize and God spent His time carefully molding you into the person He means for you to be. I’m weird, but I’ve learned it’s there are worse things, adjectives such as rude, decieving, and unfriendly. You are so loved, people are people everywhere, there are some that judge by color, by height, by disability, by personality; people are people, there are bad and good- the good will always find the good; I have faith you will have the trip of a lifetime and make many friendships along the way. This isn’t an “inspirational” message to just pump you up, this is truth, this is me telling you there’s so much more than racial and beauty standards and people understand that- they will love you and sense a lightness inside you, and if they do not it is because of the blinders put on by a society that glorifies standards to which are agreeable to only themselves. I love you, and my heart breaks for you. Know that I am praying for you and the hearts of the people that receive you, that they may welcome you and you may open their eyes to higher standard of beauty, a fierce kind of beauty that is carried with boldness, as well as kindness.

    Liked by 1 person

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