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My Vitiligo

Have you ever imagined your body as a form of art? I am not talking about the, so called, beautiful bodies everyone sees on the front page of magazines. But could you see your body as art just in the way it was made?  At the age of four I was diagnosed with vitiligo. Vitiligo is the loss of pigment in the skin that causes white spots to form all over your body. While most people would see my vitiligo as a huge flaw, I have come to think of it as a masterful work of art. However, I haven’t always seen it that way.  As a young child I was greatly affected by the views of others. 

 In my early school years I was known as “spots,” “Dalmatian,” “freak,” and so many other wonderful names kids came up with. I felt horrible about myself and at the time I wasn’t informed enough to realize that I had nothing to feel bad about. I wasn’t angry with the kids who tormented me every single day of my childhood. I didn’t hate the stupid cycle that taught people to fear, torment, and hate anything different from them.  Nor, did I see it unfit when the doctors saw me as only a specimen to study. With all of these things pressing against me I bottled up all of the anger that I could not express, until it exploded.  I hated myself because I was different, so imperfectly made. Everyone else was right; I was the freak to be studied.  I was an invader on the perfect human race.       

As human beings we often fail to realize that everyone is uniquely made. Instead of embracing the differences in our bodies we try to be mirror images of what we see on television and in magazines. If we don’t meet those standards of beauty with long hair, blue eyes, a slim body, or perfect skin, we force ourselves to hate each other. In this vicious cycle, “everyone wants what the next person has.” People have surgery to remove fat from their bodies, plaster their faces, and insert fake breasts into their chest. People go to great lengths to live up to someone else’s standards of beauty. In the process, we put ourselves at risk for breast cancer, depression, or even a nose like Michael Jackson.  

It is no wonder that we have so many sick people in the world who hate themselves. I know this because I was one of them.  I even contemplated the idea of taking my own life at the age of thirteen. Thankfully, I was saved and finally realized that a life of self hate wasn’t the life God wanted for me. I could no longer hate myself because he made me the way I needed to be. I could use my, so called, faults and show the world that I am still beautiful. I love those who speak badly against me and I will not let them take away my joyful sprit. When I am truly being me no one sees my vitiligo. They see my sprit reflecting through my nicely decorated shell, known as skin. I am alive and happy to share with the world my love.  Through my love for myself and others I will break the terrible cycle that teaches people to hate their selves and other people because of their differences. I will show them how to love their bodies and see their whole body as art the way it was made. Do you see your body as a form of art?  If not, get ready to because I am coming for you!