I guess I never really thought about this before, but it took me a really long time to love my face. That’s an incredibly hard and surprising thing I’ve learned about myself. I am incredibly confident in my looks, especially my face, and this prompt took me forever to find something. I had some things on deck, but when I sat down and honestly thought it through. It took me a long time to love my face. Yes, partly due to the acne (mostly scarring and dark marks), but I realized I hated my side profile. My nose has been through a lot, and while I think my nose is amazing, the pain it brings me from my childhood memories still rests at the back of my mind like a near-death experience. I have fallen on it several times, scarred it, took a piece of bone off it, and then it grew back with a bump. It was a bump that I worried over for decades, but in reality, it wasn’t because of the permanent reminder of how I got the bump, but what the bump meant to me growing up.
When I was 10 years old, I found out my father was not my father. I had a really smooth nose, but my original father had a bump. My bump meant we were the same, sort of like twins, except he’s darker than me. I truly looked like him as well, and there was never a doubt I was his child. Hell, not even from my mom; she was just as shocked as I was. When I found he wasn’t my father anymore, it was like I lost all connection between myself, my Caribbean heritage (Jamaican and Trinidadian), and, more importantly, my shared nose bumps. Then I met my biological father, and to say we didn’t get along is an understatement. My nose-bump meant happiness and twins, but now it meant something worse; it told a lie. My biological father and I are actual twins. I look just like him, nose bump and everything.
I was so upset at first to see he shared my nose bump, especially because mines grew from a broken nose, but then I thought, what if it didn’t grow from a broken nose. What if it was just genetics? Either way, I guess I still have a twin, my biological father, but because we look so much alike, having my face and having to look into the mirror every day was also torture. It was a reminder that my life was uprooted entirely and that I ended up with the short end of the stick, or so I thought. It was very hard for me to understand forgiveness then, but I get it now. It’s not that my father and I don’t get along, but that living through so much trauma we (me, my mom, and my two dads) lived through has formed a wall of ice and protection around us. Before anyone says, are you angry with your mother, the answer is no. She was young, and according to every single person, I have ever met who knows them, especially my fathers, the story has always been the same. My biological father didn’t claim me, and my original dad did. I also look like both men, and if that’s not a mind f*ck, then I don’t know what is.
Loving my face was easy because I’m attractive, but actually loving how I look admits that it’s okay now. I am okay now. I can make the jokes now. I even have pictures of my father on my phone prepped and ready because whenever I tell this story or talk about how much I look like my father, especially now that I’m a Bald Baddie, lol, I have to pull up a picture and show them. The very first thing anyone says to me is, “yes, this is definitely your father, you have the same face; look at your nose! It’s exactly the same.



