Melanin Quotes

I am just mystified by these people telling me I would think Obama was doing a great job if his skin contained less melanin.

I am dripping melanin and honey. I am black without apology.

Or it's happening because Shori is black, and racists—probably Ina racists—don't like the idea that a good part of the answer to your daytime problems is melanin.

A biomarker of evolution, melanin is the color of life.

Our melanin will always make us marvelous... Just imagine what that sea of sisterhood would look like. Magic!

Melanin represents unity in the diversity of life on earth.

Actually, I am kind of busy right now,” I drawled as I settled back into the chair and closed my eyes. “You have to make melanin while the sun shines.

The Blackness between the stars is the melanin in your skin,

Melanin is the black pigment which permits skins to appear other than white (black, brown, red and yellow). Melanin pigment coloration is the norm for the hue-man family. If there are non-white readers who disagree with this presentation of white rejection of the white-skinned self, may I refer you to the literature on the currently developing sun-tanning parlors.

Mama says it's okay to be on the quiet side—if quiet means you're listening, watching, taking it all in.

I look at my skin and it is glowing with constellations of ancestors. I ask them about escape and freedom and listen for revelation.

Black Girls… Beautiful in EVERY shade and size. We’ve got that special something! Our melanin is exquisitely beautiful! Love & embrace the skin that you’re in. Our skin tones represent beauty. Light, brown, and dark skinned girls are equally gorgeous!

One day our descendants will think it incredible that we paid so much attention to things like the amount of melanin in our skin or the shape of our eyes or our gender instead of the unique identities of each of us as complex human beings.

Melanin is an incomparable beauty. From the lightest to the darkest skin tone, Black women and Black girls are exquisite beauty in every shade. Yes, Black females have that special something that just can’t be ignored. We are Melanin Queens, beautifully created! Respect the complexion.

Black Girls… Stop settling for less than what you deserve. That’s why I stress self-love! There comes a time when you can no longer blame a man. You’ve got to hold yourself accountable for the choices that you make. Choose wisely! Slow down. Pay attention. Don’t allow his good looks and swag to blind you from the truth. Don’t be so easily flattered by money, cars, jewelry, and all of that other stuff. Your heart and well-being is worth much more than that. Choose someone who respects, loves, and adores you. Somebody who has your best interest at heart. Nothing less! Allow yourself to experience REAL love. Stop giving your love, time, and attention to men who clearly don’t deserve it. #ItsAllUpToYou

Don’t be so hard on yourself. Be perfectly okay with being who YOU are. Fully embrace yourself, flaws and all. Love yourself right where you are. Strive to do better, but don’t beat yourself up for every shortcoming that you may have. Be brave in your journey! Hold your head up high, and keep moving forward.

Black women were beautifully created at birth. We were blessed with melanin in our skin, which makes us Exquisitely Beautiful. From the lightest to the darkest skin tone, our melanin is Fiercely Poppin’ on Purpose. There’s no denying it, a Black woman’s beauty is elegant! We are Black Queens... Uniquely perfect, flaws and all!

Stunning" Melanin rich and honeyed, butter brown syrupy ‘Da blacker the berry, the sweeter the sweet Girl, all hues of the ebony rainbow shine Our rind so rare, age like fine wine Lips plump like cherries ready to be picked. Dey spend all kind of money tryin’ to look like ‘dis

Melanin Fiercely Poppin’ on Purpose.

Sure. I’ ll go out and start drinking blood right now . Then I’ ll come back with fangs and a melanin deficiency and rule the world. And also, David will fall so madly in love with me that the Signet will pick me as his Queen and we’ ll live happily ever after in bloodsucking bliss among the sparkly unicorns.

And when I can't speak it, I write it down. I wish I was different. Wish I was taller, smarter, could talk out loud the way I write things down. I wish I didn't always feel like I was on the outside, looking in like a Peeping Tom.

Black Girls… Naturally resilient! We persevere, stand tall, and fight to the end. We don’t give up! We make moves and succeed. We’re go-getters by nature. We are stronger than most. We are unstoppable! Fearless and confident in our capabilities. WE are Black Girl Strong! #Incomparable

The takeaway message here, as Jablonski points out, is that there is no such thing as different races of humans. Any differences we traditionally associate with race are a product of our need for vitamin D and our relationship to the Sun. Just a few clusters of genes control skin color; the changes in skin color are recent; they’ve gone back and forth with migrations; they are not the same even among two groups with similarly dark skin; and they are tiny compared to the total human genome. So skin color and “race” are neither significant nor consistent defining traits. We all descended from the same African ancestors, with little genetic separation from each other. The different colors or tones of skin are the result of an evolutionary response to ultraviolet light in local environments. Everybody has brown skin tinted by the pigment melanin. Some people have light brown skin. Some people have dark brown skin. But we all are brown, brown, brown.

Black Girls… Don’t be afraid to use your voice. Your thoughts, opinions, and ideas are just as important as anybody else’s. When you speak, speak with boldness and purpose. Have courage, be confident, and always be true to yourself! Live your life fearlessly! Your voice has GREAT power; don’t be afraid to utilize it when needed. You’re NOT an angry Black woman; you’re a woman who has something important to say. Your voice matters and so do YOU.

A Black Queen knows that her beauty is just a bonus. She is far more beautiful than the eyes can see. She’s a quality woman… A phenomenal Black Queen… Beautiful inside and out!

Your beauty will be in shades of melanin and light.

One of my life's goals is to help women see things on a UTERUS level and not judge one another by the melanin content of their skin!

Dear Exquisite Black Queen... No matter what shade of MELANIN you are, know that your skin tone is brilliant. You, my Queen, are phenomenally made!

The workers think there are people along the chain of command who are watching out for them, but melanin and accents are ineffective binding substances.

Melanin Poppin' and No Worries!

Let's just say there's not a lot of melanin over there. I could probably pay my tuition selling sunscreen between classes.

#TeamLightSkin vs. #TeamDarkSkin… REALLY, are you serious? To the black females that participate in this garbage, shame on you! Yes, I said it and I won’t take it back. After all that we’ve been through as a race regarding the light-skinned niggers versus the dark-skinned niggers, you’re actually keeping this garbage up? It’s time to wake up my Beautiful Black Queens! Educate yourself and know your history. This shouldn’t be something that we’re entertaining. WE are #TeamMelanin! Period. Enough of the foolishness! Respect yourself. Respect our race. We should be building one another up, not tearing each other down. Melanin is Exquisite Beauty in EVERY shade. Together, WE are strong, unstoppable, and powerful. Enough is enough! I encourage you to stop participating in things that keep us divided. Real Talk!

No, I’m NOT Team Light Skin. No, I’m NOT Team Dark Skin. No, I’m NOT Team Brown Skin. I’m Team Melanin because we are one! I’m a Black Queen that celebrates ALL shades of Black beauty. Black women and Black girls are equally beautiful in EVERY shade. Our skin tones are Exquisite Beauty. Respect the complexion!

Whiteness and white people make themselves pervasive yet think of themselves as separate. It is parental and condescending in tone—it invented the concept of race conferring upon itself—a freak genetic accident—the values of intelligence, advancement, beauty, whereby the lower the level of melanin in the body, the higher your place in the hierarchy, the lighter the skin tone, the closer you are to whiteness therefore the better, more beautiful you are regarded, the more suited to power you are. The simplicity of this belief is in tandem with its terrible violence.

Black Girls… Strive to be a woman of substance! Don’t solely allow your big butt, thick thighs, wide hips, large breasts, and overall good looks to define you as a woman. Your looks alone shouldn’t define who you are. What more do you have to offer? What is your TRUE character? How is your attitude? What have you accomplished? Do you have respect for yourself? What do you represent? Everywhere you look, there’s another beautiful, stunning, fine looking sista. Stand out from the rest and dare to be different! Your good looks should only be a bonus, not the main factor. #RealTalk

Those who seek power at any price detect a societal weakness, a fear that they can ride into office. It could be ethnic differences, as it was then, perhaps different amounts of melanin in the skin; different philosophies or religions; or maybe it’s drug use, violent crime, economic crisis, school prayer, or “desecrating” (literally, making unholy) the flag.

I’m an Exquisite Black Queen! I like, love, and celebrate myself. I don’t fit society’s beauty standards, but I’m beautiful to me. I know my worth and I respect who I am as a woman. I’ve got beauty on the inside and that makes me empowered and powerful. I’m fearless and comfortable in my own skin. I’ve got flaws, but I’m still confident! This Queen right here is flawed yet phenomenal, valuable and unique!

Black Girls… Always remember: It’s so easy, and it takes very little effort, to be like the next person. Don’t insult yourself like that. Be yourself! Walk YOUR walk. Talk YOUR talk. Be uniquely YOU in everything that you do. A confident woman who has a strong sense of self is quite beautiful. Allow your light to shine from the inside out. Self-love is the greatest love of all. Love, respect, and be good to yourself, first! You matter! You count! And you’re important, too!

No one stops to think, though—that maybe there is a reason for the darkness. Maybe people have to be reminded of it—of its power. At night, we go to sleep against the darkness. And if we wake up before morning, a lot of times we're afraid. We need it all though—the darkness and the light.

Those who seek power at any price detect a societal weakness, a fear that they can ride into office. It could be ethnic differences, as it was then, perhaps different amounts of melanin in the skin; different philosophies or religions; or maybe it’s drug use, violent crime, economic crisis, school prayer, or “desecrating” (literally, making unholy) the flag. Whatever the problem, the quick fix is to shave a little freedom off the Bill of Rights.

Black Girls… Always believe in yourself, even if nobody else does! Sometimes in life, you won’t always get the encouragement and support that you desire, but don’t allow that to stop you from accomplishing YOUR dreams. You’ve got to learn how to encourage yourself and be happy for yourself in spite of. Everybody won’t be happy for you, and that’s okay. Be happy for yourself and always see the best in yourself! Do it for YOU. Don’t focus on the negative. Negativity is only a distraction. Stay the course and stay focused! Be encouraged and do GREAT things. You’ve got this!

Casa de Campo has got beaches the way the rest of the Island has got problems. These, though, have no merengue, no little kids, nobody trying to sell you chicharrones, and there’s a massive melanin deficit in evidence. Every fifty feet there’s at least one Eurofuck beached out on a towel like some scary pale monster that the sea’s vomited up.

Black Girls and Black Women… Respect the Complexion! Our skin tones are exquisitely beautiful in EVERY shade!

Freedom is a state of mind. Power is a function of the will. Free minds radiate power.

Team Light Skin? No. Team Dark Skin? No. Team Brown Skin? No. TEAM MELANIN… Black Women and Black Girls are Exquisite Beauty in EVERY Shade.

Ole boy’s melanin was so popping I bet he sweats coconut oil.

However, corpocracy was emerging and social strata was demarked, based on dollars and, curiously, the quantity of melanin in one’s skin.

Black Girl Your skin is dark chocolate dipped in honey. You are a delicious shade of melanin.

melanin absorbs and reflects ultraviolet light and provides protection from the sun, melanocytes also respond to biological, physical, and chemical stimuli and are part of the immune system.

In short, connection to culture is so much more complex, rich and diverse than anyone who is non-Indigenous can understand. There's this unspoken feeling that comes with identifying as Aboriginal and being around mob that you'll never know if you aren't an Aboriginal person. Identity for us, is built on family lines, connection to country, stories, traditions and something that can't be measured according to levels of melanin.

you are not racism. you are not racism. you are not racism. you are not racism. you are not racism. your skin is not burden. there is no mark against you. your being is a holy beauty. you. are a holy beauty. — ether

the sun shines through my cryptic curls &makes my soul glow too my baby girls giggle as their fingers brush through my afro in awe have i not seen these full lips for years, never thinking about this melanin masterpiece

Were it not for the melanin in our skin, myoglobin in our muscles and haemoglobin in our blood, we would be the colour of mitochondria. And, if this were so, we would change colour when we exercised or ran out of breath, so that you could tell how energized someone was from his or her colour.

Given that the historically most violent regions of the UK had virtually no black population at all and given that working-class youth gangs stabbing and shooting people had existed in Britain for well over a century - who do you think the gangs attacking our grandparents when they arrived were? - you can imagine my shock when I discovered that there was, in the UK, such a thing as ‘black-on-black’ violence. None of what occurred in Northern Ireland had ever been referred to as ‘white-on-white’ crime, nor Glasgow, nor either world war, the Seven Years War, the Napoleonic Wars, nor any conflict or incident of murder, however gruesome, between humans racialised as white. Despite hundreds of millions of ‘white’ people killing each other throughout European history, witch hunts, mass rapes, hangings, torture and sexual abuse, and despite the fact that the two most violent regions of Britain in the 1990s were almost entirely white, there was no such thing as white-on-white violence. Yet apparently working-class black Londoners had imported from America a rap-induced mystery nigger gene (similar to the slave sprint one?) that caused black people to kill not for all of the complex reasons that other humans kill, but simply because they are ‘black’, and sometimes because they listened to too much rap, grime or dancehall. This is, after all, what the phrase ‘black-on-black crime’ is designed to suggest, is it not? That black people are not like the rest of humanity, and that they do not kill as a complex result of political, historical, economic, cultural, religious and psychological factors, they kill simply because of their skin: their excessive melanin syndrome. The fact that yellow-on-yellow crime, mixed race-on-mixed race crime or white-on-white violence just sound like joke terms but black on black violence has ‘credibility’ speaks very loudly about the perceived relationship between blackness and depravity in this culture.

Humanity today forms a single species and can interbreed freely. Differences in color of hair, skin and eyes are largely due to differences in the quantity of a pigment called melanin, and this does not affect humanity's essentially unitary character. Nor do differences in the shape of the eye or nose, in the shape of the skull, or in height.

My skin tone is exquisite!

Accept it… Black women are beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, appealing, elegant, attractive, lovely, stunning, and exquisite.

Respect the Complexion!

Black is Exquisite Beauty in EVERY Shade!

FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS THE MAP IS FREE! IMAGINATION IS THE KEY! ~QWANA B.G.R.F

man gav os vores frihed sort på hvidt til en symfoni af knuste ruder og pistolskud på et klaviatur af brændende kors

My complexion is exquisite!

Black Girls… Until you get enough of what you’re going through, no matter what advice a person gives you, you’ll continue to go through the same thing. Constant arguing. Constant fighting. Constant lies. Constant disappointments. Constant emotional rollercoaster. Constant heartbreak. Constant headaches. Constant threats. Constantly fighting for his attention and love. Constantly looking through his phone. Constantly sneaking through his personal belongings. Constantly arguing and/or fighting with other women over who’s supposed to be YOUR mate. Secretly checking up on him due to a lack of trust. Listen, NOBODY is worth your inner peace! What I’ve listed above is NOT a relationship. It’s a toxic mess. So, what are you going to do?

The white people’s funeral home was firmly ensconced down the county. Funeral business was the last place where segregation was openly tolerated in America. You can have your interracial marriages and mixed-race babies and white hip-hop artists and Black rockers, but when you died, it was still the amount of melanin in your skin that determined who lowered you into the ground.

The UCLA coup represents the characteristic academic traits of our time: narcissism, an obsession with victimhood, and a relentless determination to reduce the stunning complexity of the past to the shallow categories of identity and class politics. Sitting atop an entire civilization of aesthetic wonders, the contemporary academic wants only to study oppression, preferably his own, defined reductively according to gonads and melanin.

Dear Exquisite Black Queen… You are original, unique, and exquisite! Embrace your imperfections with confidence and self-love. Your authentic self is your best self! Flaws and all, you’re still a rare gem! Black woman, you are phenomenal, please believe that!

Darwin’s transcendantly democratic insight that all humans are descended from the same non-human ancestors, that we are all members of one family, is inevitably distorted when viewed with the impaired vision of a civilization permeated by racism. White supremacists seized on the notion that people with high abundances of melanin in their skin must be closer to our primate relatives than bleached people. Opponents of bigotry, perhaps fearing that there might be a grain of truth in this nonsense, were just as happy not to dwell on our relatedness to the apes. But both points of view are located on the same continuum: the selective application of the primate connection to the veldt and the ghetto, but never, ever, perish the thought, to the boardroom or the military academy or, God forbid, to the Senate chamber or the House of Lords, to Buckingham Palace or Pennsylvania Avenue. This is where the racism comes in, not in the inescapable recognition that, for better or worse, we humans are just a small twig on the vast and many-branched tree of life.

Immortality appears to be a principal of the larger world we inhabit. It means to have an aspect of our existence beyond the four dimensions enfolded in space-time. The soul is still evolving and beyond mortality but this does not imply that it is eternal. There are dimensions, as we

there is no such thing as different races of humans. Any differences we traditionally associate with race are a product of our need for vitamin D and our relationship to the Sun. Just a few clusters of genes control skin color; the changes in skin color are recent; they’ve gone back and forth with migrations; they are not the same even among two groups with similarly dark skin; and they are tiny compared to the total human genome. So skin color and “race” are neither significant nor consistent defining traits. We all descended from the same African ancestors, with little genetic separation from each other. The different colors or tones of skin are the result of an evolutionary response to ultraviolet light in local environments. Everybody has brown skin tinted by the pigment melanin. Some people have light brown skin. Some people have dark brown skin. But we all are brown, brown, brown. Our reactions to other groups are real enough, but evolutionary biology shows that those reactions have nothing to do with race, because race is not real. Scientifically speaking, there is tribalism and group bias, but there cannot be any such thing as racism. We are all one.

breath, life after seven decades plus three years is a lot of breathing. seventy three years on this earth is a lot of taking in and giving out, is a life of coming from somewhere and for many a bunch of going nowhere. how do we celebrate a poet who has created music with words for over fifty years, who has showered magic on her people, who has redefined poetry into a black world exactness thereby giving the universe an insight into darkroads? just say she interprets beauty and wants to give life, say she is patient with phoniness and doesn’t mind people calling her gwen or sister. say she sees the genius in our children, is visionary about possibilities, sees as clearly as ray charles and stevie wonder, hears like determined elephants looking for food. say that her touch is fine wood, her memory is like an african roadmap detailing adventure and clarity, yet returning to chicago’s south evans to record the journey. say her voice is majestic and magnetic as she speaks in poetry, rhythms, song and spirited trumpets, say she is dark skinned, melanin rich, small-boned, hurricane-willed, with a mind like a tornado redefining the landscape. life after seven decades plus three years is a lot of breathing. gwendolyn, gwen, sister g has not disappointed our expectations. in the middle of her eldership she brings us vigorous language, memory, illumination. she brings breath. (Quality: Gwendolyn Brooks at 73)

The definition of the word ‘racist’ has evolved…or devolved…or, more accurately, ballooned…over the course of my lifetime. It used to be that a ‘racist’ was simply someone who hated others for their skin color. By that definition, I am not, nor have I ever been, a racist. People give you plenty of reasons to hate them before you even have to consider their melanin levels. Most people I’ve hated have been white—especially the ones who play an infantile, morally hierarchical, status-jockeying game of ‘tag’ by calling me a racist. Another common idea of what constitutes a ‘racist’ is someone who scapegoats other races for their problems. Nah, that’s not me. I blame my parents and, increasingly, myself. So by that definition, I am not a racist.

Pastors, I beg you to consider what I have written here. I believe the Church—your church—is under attack. As shepherds, we must defend the sheep. We must repel the wolves. And yes, the wolves are many. However, this one is within the gates and has the worst of intentions. He desires to use your genuine love for the brethren as leverage. Don’t let him! Recognize the difference between the voice of the Good Shepherd who calls you to love all the sheep and the voice of the enemy that tells you some of them are guilty, blind, ignorant oppressors and that others are oppressed—all based on their melanin. Reject cries that take principles and stories of individual restitution (Numbers 5:7; Luke 19) and eisegetically twist them into calls for multi-generational reparations. Reject the cries of those who twist the repentance of Daniel and Ezra 1) on behalf of theocratic Israel and 2) for sin that took place during their lifetime, in an effort to promote multi-generational, ethnic guilt that rests upon all white people by virtue of their whiteness.

melanin is memory. is the blue weight of the ocean. sewn into the red dusk of sky. living in the soil of your body. it is alive. leaping and sweeping you. against. into the sun. your skin was the first astronaut. the first in space. you touch. talk. are intimate with the sun. everyday. and do not perish. melanin. is the world. before this world. before the word. slave. during the word. slave. after the word. slave. it is the books. written into yourself. wild math in the pads of your feet. soft science in your hair. language down your back. invention in your mouth. melanin is why you are still alive. after. the torching. it is a second lung. the next heart. and the next heart. and the next. a never ending. regenerative. breathing thing. a ceremony of life. while you are asleep. a cosmos. in conversation. immortal. melanin is a wisdom that knew. hate would be the anti light come to devour. defile. destroy. a wisdom that did not flinch. a wisdom that is not bothered by such things. melanin is memory. future memory. past memory. your memory. the memory of life. all. in your skin. — melanin

She picked up the book beside her. Jane Eyre. Used, bought recently in a bookshop in Camden Passage, shabby nineteenth-century binding, pages bearing vague stains, fingered, smoothed. She opened the book to the place she left it when the taxicab pulled up. “My daughter, flee temptation.” “Mother, I will,” Jane responded, as the moon turned to woman. The fiction had tricked her. Drawn her in so that she became Jane. Yes. The parallels were there. Was she not heroic Jane? Betrayed. Left to wander. Solitary. Motherless. Yes, and with no relations to speak of except an uncle across the water. She occupied her mind. Comforted for a time, she came to. Then, with a sharpness, reprimanded herself. No, she told herself. No, she could not be Jane. Small and pale. English. No, she paused. No, my girl, try Bertha. Wild-maned Bertha. Clare thought of her father. Forever after her to train her hair. His visions of orderly pageboy. Coming home from work with something called Tame. She refused it; he called her Medusa. Do you intend to turn men to stone, daughter? She held to her curls, which turned kinks in the damp of London. Beloved racial characteristic. Her only sign, except for dark spaces here and there where melanin touched her. Yes, Bertha was closer to the mark. Captive. Ragôut. Mixture. Confused. Jamaican. Caliban. Carib. Cannibal. Cimarron. All Bertha. All Clare.

place; it’s a mind-set. A strange coincidence: for my project on roots, I was reading a staggering book from 1980 called Le Corps noir (The Black Body) by a Haitian writer named Jean-Claude Charles. He coined the term enracinerrance, a French neologism that fuses the idea of rootedness and wandering. He spent his life between Haiti, New York, and Paris, very comfortably rooted in his nomadism. The first line of one of his experimental chapters is this: “il était une fois john howard griffin mansfield texas” (“once upon a time there was john howard griffin in mansfield texas”). I was stunned to find the small town that shares a border with my hometown in the pages of this Haitian author’s book published in France. What in the world was Mansfield, Texas, doing in this book I’d found by chance while researching roots for a totally unrelated academic project? The white man named John Howard Griffin referred to by Charles had conducted an experiment back in the late 1950s in which he disguised himself as a black man in order to understand what it must feel like to be black in the South. He darkened his skin with an ultraviolet lamp and skin-darkening medication and then took to the road, confirming the daily abuses in the South toward people with more melanin in their skin. His experiences were compiled in the classic Black Like Me (1962), which was later made into a film. When the book came out, Griffin and his family in Mansfield received death threats. It is astounding that I found out about this experiment, which began one town over from mine, through a gleefully nomadic Haitian who slipped it into his pain-filled essay about the black body. If you don’t return to your roots, they come and find you.

My Father mapped out the perfect blueprint for how to treat a woman. He caters hand and foot to my Mother. Even showers that love onto my sister. He never had to tell me how to treat my woman because his actions spoke louder. Did I cling to my woman? Absolutely. Being up under soft melanin skin pleased me. You want to read a book? Cool, what story we reading? Wanna go shopping? Take my card if you promise to model everything for me. Those females at work bothering you? Let’s get animated in the mirror and act like we about to tag team. Your period on? Baby, want me to rub your belly? You need me to get those diaper looking pads with the wings? How about some lemon ginger tea? What are your dreams? You want to sell weave? Let’s catch a flight to China or India and figure out how we can become wholesalers. You wanna make cute Snapchat filter videos? What filter do you want? Are they not liking your pics? Fine. I’ll blast you all over my page. Your Mother threatening to kick you out. Where you wanna move? Better yet, move in with me. Just focus on school and building your brand. I got everything else. You got finals coming up. Pick a tutor. Heck, can I pay for the answers to the quiz? You think those stretch marks make you unattractive? Come here and let me show you how much I appreciate your stripes of glitter. Do you want to go to Dr. Miami? Absolutely not. We going to the gym. Gym grown not silicone. We are working out together. Go ahead and hashtag us as #baegoals #coupleswhoworkouttogetherstaytogether. You want to switch the hair and get a tapered cut? Let me call my barber and see when we can go. Stressing and worrying? You keep hearing whispers while you’re sleeping? Nah bae, that’s not a ghost. That’s me praying for you.

I was 18 wen I started driving I was 18 the first time I was pulled over. It was 2 AM on a Saturday The officer spilled his lights all over my rearview mirror, he splashed out of the car with his hand already on his weapon, and looked at me the way a tsunami looks at a beach house. Immediately, I could tell he was the kind of man who brings a gun to a food fight. He called me son and I thought to myself, that's an interesting way of pronouncing "boy," He asks for my license and registration, wants to know what I'm doing in this nieghborhood, if the car is stolen, if I have any drugs and most days, I know how to grab my voice by the handle and swing it like a hammer. But instead, I picked it up like a shard of glass. Scared of what might happen if I didn't hold it carefully because I know that this much melanin and that uniform is a plotline to a film that can easily end with a chalk outline baptism, me trying to make a body bag look stylish for the camera and becoming the newest coat in a closet full of RIP hashtags. Once, a friend of a friend asked me why there aren't more black people in the X Games and I said, "You don't get it." Being black is one of the most extreme sports in America. We don't need to invent new ways of risking our lives because the old ones have been working for decades. Jim Crow may have left the nest, but our streets are still covered with its feathers. Being black in America is knowing there's a thin line between a traffic stop and the cemetery, it's the way my body tenses up when I hear a police siren in a song, it's the quiver in my stomach when a cop car is behind me, it's the sigh of relief when I turn right and he doesn't. I don't need to go volcano surfing. Hell, I have an adrenaline rush every time an officer drives right past without pulling me over and I realize I'm going to make it home safe. This time.

People are so caught up in trying to force their own world onto everybody else’s that they don’t even get the fact that the other person doesn’t care.

Removing the ink, containing the pigment melanin that inhibits secretions in the digestive system, as well as other chemicals that apparently impair taste and smell, would, the scientists state, “improve palatability and internal digestive processes.

My family is like America; we are a blend of melanin and uncertain borders.

Vitamin C can strengthen blood vessel walls, inhibit the melanin-producing enzyme, defend cells from free radicals and rejuvenate the skin’s collagen. Sources of Vitamin C: Strawberries, pineapples, grapefruit, tomatoes and raspberries. Broccoli, cauliflower, brussels sprouts, cabbage, kale, spinach, romaine lettuce, green beans, asparagus and bell peppers.

She’d rather go to war with a man than to ever fight for a boy.

The lights are still low. I'm more comfortable in the dark. It's not even that the lights in here would burn me; it's that sometimes too much light is overwhelming, especially after a day filled with things I'm not used to doing much of---packing, moving, traveling. It's too much input, almost painful for the brain, not necessarily the skin. However, sunlight does burn. Not in the way it does in films and TV programs; I don't let off smoke or singe, or burst into flames. Rather, my skin burns as if it has no pigment at all, as if I'm without any melanin, as if I'm completely and purely white.

Melanin Maniacs (The Sonnet) White guy writes a couple of sonnets and plays, And he is idolized as an olympian deity. Colored guy smashes the paradigm to ashes, And it warrants absolute unacceptability. Apparently, greatness is only greatness, If it can be credited to a caucasian. Otherwise they only end up pondering, What's the deal with this non-white person! It's a sad, sad world we live in, All the advancement is on the outside. Inside we are dumber than Donald Duck, Which has ruined all hope for real insight. Enough of this obsession with white aphrodisiacs! It's time to act as humans, and not melanin maniacs.

Each of those relationships ended because the love I gave was considered too hard… too suffocating. My father mapped out the perfect blueprint for how to treat a woman. He caters hand and foot to my mother. Even showers that love onto my sister. He never had to tell me how to treat my woman because his actions spoke louder. Did I cling to my woman? Absolutely. Being up under soft melanin skin pleased me. You want to read a book. Cool, what story we reading? Wanna go shopping? Take my card if you promise to model everything for me. Those heffas at work bothering you? Let’s get animated in the mirror and act like we about to tag team. Your period on? Baby, want me to rub your belly? You need me to get those diaper looking pads with the wings? How about some lemon ginger tea? What are your dreams? You want to sell weave? Let’s catch a flight to China or India and figure out how we can become wholesalers. You wanna make cute snapchat filter videos? What filter do you want? Are they not liking your pics? Fine. I’ll blast you all over my page. Your mother threatening to kick you out. Where you wanna move? Better yet, move in with me. Just focus on school and building your brand. I got everything else. You got finals coming up. Pick a tutor. Heck, can I pay for the answers to the quiz? You think those stretch marks make you unattractive? Come here and let me show you how much I appreciate your stripes of glitter. Do you want to go to Dr. Miami? Absolutely not. We going to the gym. Gym grown not silicone. We are working out together. Go ahead and hashtag us as #baegoals #coupleswhoworkouttogetherstaytogether. You want to switch the hair and get a tapered cut? Let me call my barber and see when we can go. Stressing and worrying? You keep hearing whispers while your sleeping? Nah bae, that’s not a ghost. That’s me praying for you. There are no stipulations with me. I gave it all. I had to. It was a part of my DNA. I needed to give the love I had in me unconditionally.

God dipped his fingers in black ink and inked my whole body. can’t you see it? i have poetry and history written all over my skin. can’t you see it? come closer and see how every melanin is a letter and every curve is a chapter. i am the sequel of a story with no ending in sight. | drawings on the wall.

Many amphibian eggs are black with the pigment melanin that protects their delicate cells from damage by ultra-violet light. Newt eggs, however, are white and lack pigment so they need protection of leaves.

I am dripping melanin and honey I am black without apology.

The Blackness between the stars is the melanin in your skin."....I take it to mean that as Black folks we are limitless. That, maybe, our blackness holds our ancient cosmic memory. What if our wisdom can come from our dreams, not just churches and Bibles?

A lot of melanin at the front results in brown eyes. No melanin in front, blue eyes. Some melanin and the eyes can appear green, hazel, and every shade in between, depending on the amount and distribution.

Melanin is why Ossie Davis states, "I find, in being black, something of beauty: a pleasure; a power; a key cup of gladness."  Melanin is our ability, our intellect, our creativity, and our power.

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In 2008 Prum’s graduate student Jakob Vinther, with Prum and two of their Yale colleagues, identified melanosomes (tiny organelles that contain melanin) in fossil feathers from the Lower Cretaceous (100–65 MYA) of Brazil and the Early Eocene (56–49 MYA) of Denmark. They were thus able to show that those feathers were colored with black and white stripes. Indeed, they concluded that most fossil feathers are actually preserved in such a way that it might be possible to determine the colors of extinct birds and feathered dinosaurs.

this message is that skin damage is cumulative and irreversible. So we’ve rewritten the message to stress that point and eliminate nonessential information. We’ve done this to illustrate the process of forced prioritization; we’ve had to eliminate some interesting stuff (such as the references to melanin) in order to let the core shine through. We’ve tried to emphasize the core in a couple of ways. First, we’ve unburied the lead—putting

Melanin. I was born with a healthy dose of it.” Remarkable.

One guy I dated insisted on being called ‘visually impaired.’” Amelie made finger quotes in the air. “I don’t really understand that. To me it’s like calling someone ‘melanin deficient’ instead of calling them white. People are so weird. I am a white, blind girl. I am a twenty-two-year old, white, blind girl. Can we just call it like it is?

That photo made me feel embarrassed: I had no family. I was American too, according to my papers, but in essence I was really a Latin product. It was on my face – and the rest of me – with all that insistent melanin in my skin. And I wore a jacket from an outlet to top it off. Almost all of my clothes were from outlets. The styles that would definitely be in the no-no columns of fashion magazines.

Arbutin prohibits the formation of melanin, which in turn helps lighten the skin.

Indeed, gaps opened in the line as bored, distracted and nervous students noticed in small groups that the three-story building’s doors opened once more. Some dressed in body-length micro-smartweave clothes that regulated their temperature and moisture. Others embraced the blazing sun and arid breeze with little clothing and generous applications of protective skin treatments. The wealthier ones, like Nathan, underwent expensive melanin adjustments to address that problem.

If you need 15 minutes in the sun to trigger a melanin response, 15 minutes is your MED for tanning. More than 15 minutes is redundant and will just result in burning and a forced break from the beach. During this forced break from the beach, let’s assume one week, someone else who heeded his natural 15-minute MED will be able to fit in four more tanning sessions. He is four shades darker, whereas you have returned to your pale pre-beach self.