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By Raegan L. Burden

My perception of physical beauty was formed by the visual landscape of women in my family. I suspect we all look to our mothers, aunts, and grandmothers as a reflection of ourselves. They validated that we, little black girls, are beautiful! Growing up, the Burden and Wilson women reflected the color spectrum—every shade of ebony God created, from café au lait to a smooth, dark chocolate. They were short and tall, with hair that was long or short, pressed, relaxed, or natural! Yet they had shapely, curvy bodies.

In fashion, their bodies would be described as hourglass, full-figured, top-heavy, pear-shaped, or plus-size. To me, that was Mama, Cousin Pearl, Great-aunt Queen, Aunt Edna, my second cousins Sparkle and Keisha, and my tall, statuesque aunt Ludia. Some of my fondest memories of my grandma Gladys are those reassuring hugs from her full, soft body. I would observe men eyeing them as they walked by. I couldn’t wait to grow up! I was ready for my rite of passage!

By the time I turned sixteen, my reflection in the mirror horrified me. I had no problem being 5'2", but where were my mother’s full, perky breasts (the ones that men would gawk at), or my sister’s ample tush that could fill out any pair of jeans? Where was my body? Of course, my mother told me I was going to be a petite woman and that I resembled her (without the voluptuous boobs, of course). She’d even point out that I favored my great-aunt Margaret, who was 4'11". However, she was in her sixties, going through the shrinkage I thought all elderly women went through. I was completely devastated.

I believed God had given me the right mind and heart, but mistakenly put them in the wrong body.

Misconception of Being “Skinny”

Now, I’m sure a few of you are laughing at this scenario. How could I possibly have a problem with being a “skinny” girl? By and large, black America didn’t buy into that Eurocentric philosophy of body image. Our community’s picture of physical beauty has always been different from the mainstream. Oh, we might’ve killed ourselves at the gym, got on Slim-Fast, and cut back on the soul food, but even my friends will tell you, “I’ll never be skinny, but I can be healthier.” Our sheroes are Coretta Scott King, Dorothy Dandridge, Diahann Carroll, Tyra Banks, and Jill Scott. I didn’t embrace the Twiggy standard of beauty. Why would I? That didn’t reflect the women that I wanted to emulate.

I think self-acceptance would’ve come easier had the comments from black males been more welcoming. I distinctly remember several white boys thinking I had a nice shape, while I was ridiculed for my petite frame by the brothers. Maybe you, too, have heard some of these comments:

“You’re cute and all, but brothers like some meat on their bones!”

“If you’d gain some weight, you’d get more play!”

“Are you sure you’re a sister? I mean, you shaped like a white girl!”

“Black women have boobs, bootie, or both—how come you don’t?”

Can you imagine hearing this, routinely, at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen from classmates? Those are the most formative years in your life as a young woman, and as a teenager your peers can have more of an effect on you than your parents. No matter how smart, sweet, or interesting I was, I simply felt I wasn’t good enough. Maybe you’ve felt that way as well.

If you are “skinny” or know people that are, at least half of them have had this battle of the mind. We don’t speak about it, many times out of fear. Can you imagine talking about this in the company of curvy or plus-size teens or women? The eye rolls would be endless.

The simplest way I can explain it is this: Some black women think they’re too big, and some little women think they’re too small; we’re all trying to get to the middle. Either way, it hurts. Personally, I never liked being called “skinny.” It always sounded like a curse word, as though something were wrong with me. I was healthy, ate heartily, and loved being outside.

The Smart, Funny Girl

I inherited a boisterous sense of humor from my father, and I was an honor roll student. So I morphed into the “smart, funny girl.” In fact, some of you were labeled the athlete, tomboy, or quiet one. Although I felt unattractive, I really wasn’t. Though I had flattering features, it’s amazing how I became so focused on what I didn’t see. Many times, the negative comments drowned out the positive words and attention I got from brothers in middle and high school.

I’ve met girls who wore baggy clothes (to mask their petite frames), never wore shorts (to cover their small legs), padded certain areas of their bodies (to appear bigger), or would buy enhancement creams and pills from magazine ads. Even I, during my freshman year of college, overate as much as possible to try and gain weight. I had bad indigestion, high cholesterol, and excessive fatigue, and only five pounds later, I was still petite. I knew it was finally time to start the process of acceptance.

If wanting to fit in can lead you to mask your body type, I believe that lack of self-esteem can hamper your thought process. Maybe you’ll start drinking with peers after school, skipping class, or engaging in sexual activities sooner than you’re emotionally ready to handle. If you don’t believe you fit in physically, you’ll find a way to fit in behaviorally.

Thank God you don’t have to continue viewing yourself in this distorted way! If I had known then what I know now, I would’ve been a lot happier with myself.

You’re a Complete Package—Just as You Are

Having walked some of the same emotional roads, let me begin with one sentence: You are attractive and good enough just as you are. Of this I am certain! To get you started on the road to accepting what you see in the mirror, here are a few things I want you to start meditating on today (and yes, I’ve done every one and revisit this list when I need a reminder):

Memorize this scripture, and recite it when you get discouraged.

(Psalm 139:13b–14) “…you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful. I know that full well.” Since God spared no detail when he formed us, little women are just that—God’s creation. You have a specially designed body made just for you!

You are more than body parts!

The size of your hips, breasts, and derrière doesn’t define who you are, nor is it an indication of what you have to offer the world (much less a young man). Stop looking at those video girls, thinking they’re somehow better than you! If we could put a microphone up to their thoughts, you’d be shocked and comforted to know that they struggle with the same insecurities. It takes more than a pretty face to capture a man’s heart and respect. The beauty of black women is that our looks are so diverse. God hasn’t made you unattractive to brothers. On the contrary, he’s designed them with preferences as well. Believe me; I’ve met plenty of men who adore petite women.

Seek out peers whom you admire and respect that have the same body type as you.

No, I don’t want you to exclude friends or loved ones if there’s no physical similarity, but sometimes it’s easier to receive praise and encouragement from people you can identify with. One of my former roommates and I used to discuss our body image, and I always felt better after confiding in her because we could relate. From a distance, I have long admired Jada Pinkett Smith. This sister is feisty and intelligent, a family-oriented woman, who just happens to be—petite! Even more, she’s lauded as one of the world’s most beautiful women and celebrated actresses.

Find the song “She’s a Bad Mama Jama” by R&B singer Carl Carlton—dance to it at home!

I believe we always need a positive soundtrack playing in our heads to speak life into our issues. Since this song was released in 1981, it’s “old school,” but ask your parents or any of your aunts and uncles, and they’ll know exactly what you’re talking about. I want you to close your eyes and dance until you feel it—no, really feel it! I want you to hear this song and know that all your little curves are beautiful. Be confident, and walk in it!

Even as an adult, I still have those days where I feel self-conscious. That’s just part of being a woman! I have embraced my petite frame and have grown quite fond of my appearance. I no longer want to change anything about my external physique. If anything, I’d rewind the clock to 1994 when I was sixteen years old. I’d close my bedroom door, turn on my CD player, and belt out the chorus to “She’s a Bad Mama Jama”—while I point at myself in the mirror.

Raegan L. Burden is an Atlanta-based writer and managing partner of Raegan / Robertson Productions, a media development and TV production company. Her professional endeavors reflect her passion for exploring contemporary / pop culture, women’s issues, politics, and religion. Raegan is an alumna of North Carolina A&T State University and holds a master’s degree from the University of Georgia.