I was raised by a single mother, surrounded mostly by a family of women and girls. I have experienced life through a lens informed by these Black women, the way they present themselves, their attitudes about beauty, and the lessons they pass on to their children. My first concept of beauty came from watching my mother adorn herself with ornate jewelry, intricate hairstyles, and a fresh set of long acrylic nails every two weeks. I eventually realized that these same standards of beauty I grew up admiring and longing to adopt, were viewed negatively by others and denigrated as outrageous and labeled as “ghetto.” Ghetto—a term often associated with Black people—represents for me both the richness of black culture and the consequences of coming from an impoverished, low-class, urban area, with its particular culture and beliefs that stray from what is considered acceptable or typical.
 
         The way I present myself has emboldened complete strangers to make offensive and cutting remarks, ranging from judgement of my hair texture (my curly hair is nappy) to the disapproval of my hairstyles (I’ve been scolded for wearing braids and beads in a classroom because my teacher deemed them inappropriate). I’ve received public condemnation for the accessories and jewelry I wear: acrylic nails and gold jewelry are ghetto and “a black girl thing.” In time, the opinions of others affected my perspective on my own culture, leading me to strip away markers of identity I felt were too telling of my blackness. I began a battle with myself—against the microaggressions and racism that began to shape my self-image—which I portray in my work. 

          Through vivid self-portraits I depict examples of whitewashing through a combination of life references, reflections in a mirror, and photographed references to reenact these vulnerable moments. I place an intentional emphasis on reflective color to further convey the effects of external pressures on myself. My paintings explore the effects of imposing these Anglo-Eurocentric beauty ideals on Black women and, moreover, the erasure of my observable otherness, the otherness into which I was born.