IF ONLY THEY KNEW WHAT SHE DOES IN THE DARK TO HAVE LIGHT SKIN TONE AFRICAN TALES

Kemi scrapes her beautiful melanin off her  skin every night in order to get a light skin! You must be wondering why? Well it started  this way.

Kemi was born into a household where love was conditional, and worth  was measured by appearance. Her parents, Mr and Mr. Adeyemi, were well-respected in  their Lagos community, but behind closed doors, their favoritism was glaring.

Kemi's dark  skin was the source of their disdain, while her younger sister Funke’s lighter  complexion earned her unearned adoration. As early as age five, Kemi noticed the stark  difference in how she and her sister were treated. When visitors came to their home, they would scoop  Funke into their arms, peppering her with kisses and calling her "our golden princess.

" Meanwhile,  Kemi sat quietly in the corner, clutching her doll, invisible to them. When they did notice  her, it was often with sneering remarks: "Ah ah, how come this one is so dark? " "Funke took all the beauty in the family, ehn?

" Her parents never defended her. Instead,  her mother would shake her head, muttering, "I don’t know who you took  after with this black skin. " Every day in the Adeyemi household was a  reminder of Kemi's supposed inadequacy.

Funke received the best of everything: the  prettiest dresses, lavish birthday parties, and constant words of affirmation. On the rare  occasion that Kemi's birthday was remembered, it was marked with indifference—a small cake  and a dismissive "Don’t expect too much. " Kemi’s father was no better.

He often called her  "Blackie" as though it were her name, laughing as if it were a harmless joke. At family gatherings,  he would proudly show off Funke to relatives, leaving Kemi to fade into the background. School, which should have been a refuge, was a continuation of Kemi’s torment. 

Her classmates were relentless, calling her names like "monkey," "charcoal,"  and "black baboon. " During roll call, they would snicker when her name was mentioned, and in group  activities, she was always the last to be chosen. Her teachers, while not openly cruel, often  overlooked her.

On the rare occasion she performed well academically, her efforts were  downplayed. Instead, the focus was always on her sister, who attended the same school  and was adored for her "angelic beauty. " During lunch breaks, Kemi would eat  alone under the shade of a tree, far from the teasing and mockery.

But  her solitude only fueled the rumors. Even in church, where she hoped for acceptance,  Kemi faced judgment. During Sunday services, other children were invited to participate in dramas or  choir performances.

Kemi was often passed over, with the church elders commenting that her  "appearance might distract people. " But during dramas that involves devil , monsters , demons  or blackness of the heart roles, Kemi was always given the role , the drama co-ordinator would  always say that she fits perfectly for the roles. The whispers from congregants stung the  most “That child’s darkness is too much.

" Kemi learned to keep her head low,  folding herself into invisibility, hoping to avoid their judgmental stares. As Kemi grew older, her once-scrawny frame blossomed into a lovely figure. She was tall,  graceful, and poised, with a face that hinted at hidden beauty.

For the first time, Kemi  saw a spark of possibility in her reflection. She began dreaming of becoming a model, imagining  herself on magazine covers and runways. Modeling seemed like a way to escape her harsh reality—a  chance to be admired rather than mocked.

But even this dream was quickly dashed. At 18, Kemi scraped together enough money to  attend an open audition at a local modeling agency. Her heart raced with anticipation as  she stood in line, surrounded by hopefuls.

When it was finally her turn, the panel barely  glanced at her before shaking their heads. The feedback was cutting, "Your skin  is too dark for the Nigerian market. " "We’re looking for someone with a  more.

. . versatile look.

" They said. Kemi left the audition humiliated,  clutching her portfolio as tears streamed down her face. The rejection was  not an isolated incident.

Every agency she approached turned her away,  citing her skin as the problem. By the time Kemi entered her twenties, the  rejection extended to her romantic life. Men rarely showed interest in her, and those who did  treated her with disrespect.

Her first boyfriend, Deji, seemed kind at first but  soon revealed his true colors. He often made backhanded comments like, "You’re  lucky I’m managing you. Most guys wouldn’t date someone as dark as you.

" His words cut deeply, but  Kemi stayed, desperate for affection in any form. Years of rejection, mockery,  and self-loathing finally took their toll. One evening, after  another modeling agency turned her away, Kemi stared at herself in the mirror,  her reflection blurred by tears.

"I’ll never be good enough,"  she whispered. "Not like this. " Determined to change her fate,  she resolved to bleach her skin, convinced it was the only way to gain  acceptance.

With every insult replaying in her mind, she began saving for the  chemicals that would alter her destiny. Kemi’s journey into skin bleaching began  with cautious optimism. With her first paycheck from a small administrative  job, she purchased a popular bleaching cream from a local vendor.

The vendor, a  woman who had bleached her own skin to a pale complexion, assured Kemi that  the product was safe and effective. "Don’t worry, my dear," the vendor said  with a reassuring smile. "In a few weeks, you’ll be glowing like the sun. 

People won’t even recognize you! " Kemi started using the cream daily, slathering  it on her skin in the morning and at night. The changes were subtle at first—a slightly lighter  tone on her arms, a faint glow on her face.

Encouraged, she invested in stronger products:  whitening soaps, serums, and chemical peels. Within months, Kemi’s skin  tone shifted dramatically. She stared at her reflection in awe,  hardly recognizing the woman in the mirror.

Her dark skin had been replaced  with a lighter, more radiant complexion. The transformation was met with  immediate results. Suddenly, the same people who had once  ignored her began to take notice.

At work, colleagues complimented her:  "Kemi, you look so beautiful these days! " On the streets, strangers called her  "oyinbo" (a term for light-skinned people), smiling warmly as she walked past. Kemi soaked up the newfound attention like a sponge.

For the first time in her  life, she felt visible, worthy, and loved. With her lighter skin, Kemi decided to  revisit her dream of modeling. This time, the doors that had once  slammed in her face swung open.

At her first audition post-transformation, the agency executives couldn’t stop praising  her "You’re perfect for our upcoming campaign! " "Your skin tone photographs beautifully! " Kemi booked her first gig within weeks—a  national campaign for a popular clothing brand.

The photoshoot was a dazzling success, with  Kemi’s image plastered on billboards across Lagos. More opportunities followed in rapid succession.  International brands reached out to her, and soon, she was flying to Paris, New York, and Milan  for high-profile assignments.

Kemi became the face of luxury skincare products, clothing  lines, and even a renowned jewelry brand. The money poured in, and with it came a life of  luxury. Kemi moved into a sprawling mansion in an upscale Lagos neighborhood, filling it with  designer furniture and artwork.

She bought cars, traveled the world, and adorned  herself with expensive jewelry. Her success made her the toast of Lagos high  society. Elite parties, red-carpet events, and private yacht gatherings became her  new normal.

She mingled with celebrities, business tycoons, and politicians. The governor’s son, Tobi, was among her  admirers. A charming and well-educated man, he pursued Kemi relentlessly, sending her flowers,  jewelry, and invitations to exclusive events.

Kemi’s transformation also altered her  relationship with her family. Her parents, once cold and dismissive,  now treated her like royalty. Her mother would boast to visitors: "That’s  my daughter!

The international model! " Her father often called her his "pride and joy,"  showering her with praise at family gatherings. Even Funke, who had once reveled in  being the favored child, now looked up to Kemi with admiration—and a hint of jealousy.

Kemi began to support her family financially, sending her parents money for a new house  and paying for Funke’s education. The same people who had once rejected her  now depended on her generosity. With her newfound beauty came  a flood of suitors.

Men who had previously ignored or insulted  her now vied for her attention. Businessmen, entertainers, and even  foreign diplomats lined up to woo her. They showered her with gifts, from  luxury handbags to exotic vacations.

Among her admirers, Tobi, the governor's son,  stood out. He was persistent yet respectful, always finding ways to make her smile. Kemi’s career reached its zenith when she won a prestigious international modeling  award.

Drssed in a stunning designer gown, she accepted the trophy with tears in her eyes,  thanking everyone who had supported her journey. She felt invincible, as if she had finally  silenced the voices that once called her ugly. Kemi’s life had transformed in every way.

She  was no longer the dark-skinned girl mocked and ignored. She was now a celebrated model, a  wealthy philanthropist, and a sought-after woman. Kemi’s glamorous life began to crack when she  noticed something strange—her legs and arms started to swell.

At first, she dismissed it as  nothing serious, attributing the discomfort to exhaustion from her jet-setting lifestyle.  She had been working nonstop, hopping from one modeling gig to another, attending exclusive  parties, and maintaining her demanding schedule. When the swelling persisted for days,  Kemi assumed it was malaria.

She bought medication from a pharmacy and continued  pushing through her busy routine. However, the symptoms worsened. The swelling became more  pronounced, and she began experiencing fatigue, headaches, and a persistent  nausea that refused to go away.

It was during a photoshoot in Cape  Town that she collapsed. Alarmed, the crew rushed her to the hospital.  Kemi, still determined to downplay her condition, assured everyone it was just  exhaustion.

But after a series of tests, the doctor delivered devastating  news: she had kidney failure. The words felt like a hammer to her  chest. Kidney failure?

How could that be possible? The doctor explained that  her prolonged use of harmful bleaching agents had caused severe damage to her kidneys. "You need a transplant as soon as possible," the doctor said gravely.

"Dialysis can  only stabilize you for so long. " The news of her condition spread quickly within  her circle, but instead of rallying around her, the people in Kemi’s life began to disappear. Her so-called friends, who had once flooded  her home with laughter and companionship, stopped answering her calls.

Her suitors, who had once vied for  her attention, ghosted her entirely. Even her family, the very people she had lifted  out of poverty, abandoned her. Her parents, who had come to depend on her financial support,  refused to help.

When Kemi suggested that Funke might be tested as a potential kidney  donor, her mother exploded with anger. "Never! " her mother screamed. 

"I won’t risk losing both of my children! You brought this upon yourself! " From that day, her family stopped visiting her  at the hospital.

Alone and betrayed, Kemi was left to navigate her illness without the support  of the people she had loved and sacrificed for. The dialysis treatments were costly, and  with no steady income, Kemi’s once-flush bank account quickly dwindled. Her glamorous  lifestyle crumbled before her eyes.

She had to sell her mansion, her luxury cars, and her  designer possessions to pay for her treatments. Each session of dialysis left her physically  drained and emotionally shattered. The vibrant, confident woman she once was  had become a shadow of herself.

One evening, while scrolling through  her contacts with trembling fingers, Kemi hesitated before dialing Tobi, the  governor’s son. He was one of the few people who hadn’t outright abandoned her, but  she felt ashamed to admit her dire situation. When he answered, his voice  was warm and concerned.

"Kemi, I haven’t seen you in weeks. Are you okay? " At first, she tried to deflect his  questions, but his persistence broke through her walls.

Through tears, she  confessed everything—her diagnosis, her financial struggles, and her  feelings of utter hopelessness. Tobi arrived at the hospital hours later, bearing  fruit baskets and a comforting presence. Kemi, overwhelmed by shame, couldn’t meet his eyes.

"I just wanted to be beautiful," she sobbed. "I wanted people to accept me. I never  thought it would end like this.

" Tobi took her hand, his voice steady  but filled with emotion. "Kemi, your beauty was never in question.  Whether you were dark or fair, you were always extraordinary.

The people  who made you feel otherwise were wrong. " His words, so genuine and heartfelt, brought  a sense of peace Kemi hadn’t felt in years. For the first time, someone saw her as  more than her skin colour or beauty.

Without telling Kemi, Tobi spoke to her  doctor and got tested as a potential kidney donor. Miraculously, he was a match.  He immediately agreed to donate his kidney but insisted on remaining anonymous, fearing that  Kemi might refuse his help out of pride or guilt.

The next day, the doctor informed Kemi that  an anonymous donor had been found. Her relief was palpable. She called Tobi to share the  good news, but his number was unreachable.

Kemi couldn’t shake the nagging  feeling that something was amiss, but she pushed it aside,  focusing on the surgery ahead. The operation was a success. As Kemi recovered,  the doctor informed her that the anonymous donor wanted to meet her.

Though weak, Kemi  insisted on being wheeled into the donor’s room. When she entered, her breath  caught in her throat. There, lying on the hospital bed, was Tobi,  smiling despite his pale complexion.

"You? " she whispered, tears streaming down  her face. "Why would you do this for me?

" Tobi reached for her hand, his voice soft but firm. "Because I care  about you, Kemi. I’ve always cared.

" Overcome with emotion, Kemi sobbed  uncontrollably. For the first time, she felt truly loved—not for her  appearance, but for who she was. Recovery from the surgery was slow but  steady.

As Kemi regained her strength, she began to reflect deeply on her  life and the choices she had made. The scars on her body were not just  physical—they were reminders of years of self-doubt, pain, and the desperate  measures she had taken to be accepted. Kemi decided to use her platform to  advocate for self-love and acceptance.

She started a campaign called "In Her  Skin," sharing her story with young girls across Nigeria who felt pressured to  conform to unrealistic beauty standards. She held workshops in schools and community  centers, teaching girls about the dangers of skin bleaching and the importance  of embracing their natural beauty. Her vulnerability and honesty resonated with many,  turning her pain into a source of inspiration.

Kemi also partnered with healthcare organizations  to raise awareness about the harmful effects of bleaching products, becoming a voice  for change in the beauty industry. Years later, on a sunny day, Kemi sat on a beach  with her husband, Tobi, and their twin daughters. The girls, a perfect blend of their parents, ran  along the shore, their laughter filling the air.

"Mummy, daddy can’t run! " one of the  girls yelled, making everyone laugh. Kemi watched her daughters, their dark skin  shimmering under the sun, and felt a profound sense of peace.

They would grow up in a world  where their beauty was celebrated, not diminished. As Tobi joined her on the beach blanket, he handed her a bottle of water and kissed her  forehead. "You’re glowing," he said with a smile.

Kemi smiled back, her heart  full. "For the first time in my life," she replied, "I feel truly beautiful.