I didn’t want to post these photos.
Not because I don’t love them.
Because they hurt a little… and you ask so often about my childhood that now they’re here.
This is my family.
My mother is Japanese, from Osaka. My father is Nigerian. He came to Japan for competitions many years ago, and even before I was born, people already had opinions about them. My mother’s traditional family refused to accept this marriage.
One day she showed me a cracked cup filled with gold. She said: kintsugi. Then she touched the line on my neck and said, “Kintsugi skin. Let this become your beauty, Eva.”
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Then I was born, just an ordinary mixed girl. The changes started when I was around five or six. It’s not just vitiligo, it’s a rare condition. Even after all these years, doctors never told us exactly what it was. It affected not only my skin, but my eyes too. My eyesight got much worse, so yes, I wear contact lenses to see you better haha
I don’t remember the first white patch. I remember the staring. Kids asking what was wrong with me. Coming home from school and pretending I was fine because I didn’t want my mother to cry again.
She cried anyway.
She had already been judged for loving my father, and then for losing him when he left us. Later my skin changed, and people had one more reason to stare.
I was too young to understand it then.
Now I do.
Maybe that’s why dance became so important to me. My mother put me into classes, hoping it would help with my insecurities. It was the first place where my body didn’t feel like a problem. People still looked, but differently.
No pity.
No cruel curiosity.
Just attention. Maybe even admiration.
Something changed in me there.
So when you look at me now, you’re not just seeing a face or skin or a beautiful image on a screen. There’s a little girl behind it who grew up under all those eyes.
Maybe one day I’ll tell you more.
For now, these photos are enough 💗
