College Candy

When I was younger, I was fan of saying to my more melanin challenged friends when they offered me sunscreen, “I don’t need that! I don’t burn, I’m black!”

Oh how very wrong I was. It’s not that sunburn is all that different when you’re black, it’s just way more embarrassing. And way less attractive.

The first time I got burned by my hated enemy the sun was in Hawaii. Proof that you should screen up even on cloudy overcast days. The day albeit warm, was gray — but those wicked rays got me anyway. I didn’t know what it was at first. My shoulders itched and burned. I thought I was having some allergic reaction to something in the Hawaiian air. My mom took one look and said, “Ha! You got sunburned!”

The second time it happened I was in Africa and that was even more unbearable for different reasons. After that I decided that the sun and I just aren’t friends.

The point of this isn’t about my own embarrassing stories or the beginnings of my war with the orb of fire. Just to point out some differences. Although a sunburn is pretty much the same in all races (pain, redness, itching, burning, and peeling) that end part is kinda different. See, when you get to the peeling bit it’s alright because like 75% of the people on the beach are suffering from the same thing. But when you’re black it’s like they’ve never seen that before and people start asking you what’s wrong with your skin.

Or if it’s really bad like my sister is prone to get on her face, then the new skin that comes up isn’t exactly the same color. In fact it’s more pink, less brownish. Very unattractive. And it stays that way. For weeks.

Sunburn can ruin your whole bare shoulder summer, black friends. It really, really can. It’s like our dirty, dirty secret that I’m telling you here.

Black people totally burn.