Дата публикации: 2017-11-15 07:09
Not surprisingly, my paranoia over my skin colour deepened. I would get up early so I could wash in the communal bathroom alone, and took to getting dressed under my bedsheets so that no one would see my body.
After this, I went to live with my mother, a waitress, at her home in London. That's when I met my father's brother, Sonny, and sister, Amber.
Yet, despite all this, I can't say I am truly content. Once, all that mattered to me was fitting in and being accepted, and I would have denied my heritage to achieve it.
Like any child, I just wanted to fit in. I had no idea what was happening, but my skin continued to fade from black to completely white in patches.
Despite my childhood prayers to be white, I was now desperate to hang on to my black identity - especially on the part of the body that defines us most.
Today, many theories exist to explain vitiligo. The most popular is that the body's own immune system attacks pigment cells.
For instance, I was recently offered a job as a butcher, which I know I wouldn't have got were I black. How can I be so sure? After offering me the job, the owner of the business discreetly reassured me that it was not an establishment where black people were allowed to work.