Our bodies are more than skin; they’re living journals, etched with stories of growth, grit, and becoming.
I like my scars. The large scald mark on my left thigh is a permanent reminder of the day I ignored my mother’s warnings about boiling water. The soft, silvery stretch marks that appeared quietly, marking my passage into womanhood. And then there are the little ones — scattered across my body like souvenirs from a childhood spent scraping my knees, laughing loudly, and living fearlessly. Every mark on my skin holds a story.
In a society that expects perfection from women — especially Black women — people often see scars, loose skin, back folds, and wrinkles not as signs of life, but as flaws. We learn to admire narrow beauty standards, and we treat anything outside those ideals as something to hide. But what if we paused long enough to realise: our bodies don’t need fixing. They are lived-in maps of our becoming. And every line, mark, and curve has something to say.
Stretch marks and the seasons we’ve survived
Most of us remember the first time we noticed them. Those faint lines on our thighs, belly, and breasts. Maybe it was during puberty, pregnancy, or just a time when life felt heavier than usual. And while society taught us to hide them, or scan the internet for products to make them disappear, they’re just reminders. Gentle, quiet proof that our bodies stretched to hold something. Growth. Life. Change. Stretch marks don’t make us less beautiful. They remind us that we are real.
Scars that whisper and sometimes shout
Some scars are small and almost forgettable — a kitchen accident, a fall, a childhood memory. Others carry more weight — surgery, trauma, illness, heartbreak. Whatever the story, a scar says you endured pain, survived, and healed. There’s strength in that, even if it takes time, even if you’re still healing.
Scars may fade, but they don’t erase. And maybe that’s the point — some things deserve to be remembered. They remind you that you made it through.
Shalom Blac, a beauty influencer, is a powerful testament to resilience; a reminder that scars, whether visible or hidden, do not define your worth or potential. After surviving a life-altering burn accident as a child, she endured years of pain, bullying, and self-doubt. Yet, through her courage and creativity, she transformed her trauma into a platform for empowerment. Today, as a celebrated beauty influencer and advocate for self-love, Shalom inspires millions by embracing her scars not as limitations but as a symbol of her triumph.
Read also: My body is not an apology — yours shouldn’t be either
Skin that holds memory
Our skin changes, and that can feel hard. Lines appear where skin was once smooth. Texture appears. Pigment shifts. But look closer, the laugh lines around your eyes? They’re from joy. The crease on your forehead? That came from caring too much, worrying too deeply. The cellulite on your thighs? A reminder that you’re a woman with hormones. That soft stomach? It’s been home to long dinners, belly laughs, maybe even a baby or two. Your skin has felt life, held it, and protected you. And that’s not something to fight or be ashamed of. It’s something to honour.
Kechi Okwuchi, a Nigerian-American singer, author, and motivational speaker, survived the 2005 Sosoliso plane crash that claimed 107 lives, including many of her schoolmates. Her body was severely burned, and her skin holds more than pain; it holds memory. Each mark is a quiet archive of trauma and survival, a testament to the day her life was reshaped by fire. But her skin does not simply bear the evidence of what she endured — it testifies to the strength it took to heal, to perform, to speak, and to live with radical honesty. Rather than conceal her scars, Kechi embraces them, allowing her body to tell the story of resilience and rebirth. In this way, her skin becomes more than a surface, it is a living proof of endurance and a reminder that beauty can arise not in spite of pain but because of it.
Your body is not a project, it’s home
We’re constantly sold the idea that “perfect” skin means tight, smooth, poreless and untouched by time or story. But who decided that? And why are we trying so hard to look like we haven’t lived? The truth is, there’s no gold medal for looking ageless. There’s only peace in acceptance. Your body is not a problem to solve. It’s a story to cherish.
You don’t need to love every inch all the time. However, maybe you can look at your body — that scar, that soft patch, that stretch mark — and say, “I’ve been through a lot. Thank you for staying with me.”
There’s something quietly powerful about choosing to see your body as a home rather than a task — a place you return to that holds your history, strength, and softness. So, when you get dressed, when you look in the mirror, when your fingers trace that familiar mark — remember: You are not meant to look untouched. You are meant to look alive.
