Courtesy of Secret Deodorant
“It’s Christmas 2001,” remembers Yelitsa Jean-Charles, “and I’m seven years old. I’m ripping wrapping paper off a gift and my parents are watching. Suddenly, I burst into tears. I hold up the black Barbie doll and tell them, crying, that I wanted ‘the pretty one’ instead. I was seven, and already evading my blackness.”
