It never ceases to amaze me how easily it is to isolate and insult others. Society seems to dictate that physical beauty is all that matters and other attractive qualities are deemed inferior. I like to think that myupbringing gives me an unfettered view of everything that a person has to offer. A pretty face is merely one facet of an individual, not the entire package. I confess that once I was utterly obsessed with making my self "acceptable" pretty. Meaning, I wanted those around me to see that I could be pretty too and I was worth something because of it.

It didn't help matters that I had, and still do have, an emotionally and verbally abusive sister. She tore me down whenever I tried to pull myself up. It led to a very terrible period of time in my childhood. I was pumped full of antidepressants and constantly under supervision for suicide attempts. All while my sister continued to emotionally murder me. Nothing was ever done about her. Nothing has STILL been done about her. Just existing was becoming too much for my 12 year old self. One night when her torment reached new heights-she physicallyattacked me- and I snuck out. Unable to handle my parents doing nothing to protect me, I just walked.

It was strange, being alone under a blanketof stars. The hustle and sounds of daytime long since silenced. There was an almost ethereal quality to the night time, like the veryenergy was tangible and just waiting for an opportunity to reach out to me.Eventually, I ended up seated underneath a massive pine tree. I sat in silence, contemplating my life. The memories of what I truly felt and thought that nightare long sinceblurred. I can say that after that night spent under the protective cover of a pine tree, I was changed. It no longer mattered to me what she thought. I saw a spiritualugliness in her beyond description. It still festers in her to this day, blackening her very soul. I can however, thank her for acting as the catalyst of my own personal transformation. After that night, I no longer saw fat, skinny, ugly or pretty in the same light that society demanded of me. Instead, I saw a great beauty in everything and beauty all around. I'm 24 now, and my dreads are the final testament to my own transformation that started so long ago. I keep them as a tangible reminder that everyone, no matter what society has labeled them as, is beautiful in their own glorious way. My dreads are theend tothe story of an emotionally abused little girl.But also the firm foundation and beginning of wise, strong woman and mother.