BY Gwen Berumen
on Jun 03, 2014
Growing up, I knew what it felt like to be brown. I knew that going over to my friend's house for dinner meant that my mom would think I was malnourished when I came back. I knew that I dreaded being out in the sun for too long because that meant I got darker, and God forbid I get darker. I knew that I would feel ashamed when my mom talked too loudly in Spanish, or I had to translate for her.
Being brown – for me – meant that as a kid, I constantly ... Read More