We were not born into this world to be ashamed of the color of our skin. We were not created in the image of God just to be told that we are less than. That is a lie—and it was manufactured for one purpose: to control, to dominate, and to exploit the Black man and woman across the Earth. In the beginning, color had no curse. In Africa—our holy land—color was sacred. The people were shaped from black clay, red soil, brown earth. The stories our ancestors told did not separate us by skin tone—they united us in spirit. Color was creation. Color was divine. We were never what they said we were. We are not the shadows of their lies—we are the light of our own truth. The crime was never our color. The crime was the system that feared it, fought it, and tried to erase it. Let us then rise—not in bitterness, but in power. Let us lift our voices, educate our children, and claim our place among the nations—not as victims of history, but as victors who have outlasted every chain. Understand this: the invention of race was never about science. It was about power. They needed to justify slavery. So they made our color the reason. Then they used it to justify segregation, colonization, police brutality, and every evil that came after. To be human is to be colorful. Our differences are not flaws; they are features of the grand design. In every shade is beauty, in every tone is truth. The color of our skin is only the beginning — a doorway into the richness of who we are, the lives we touch, and the love we carry. Yes, we are more than skin deep. But in the skin, too, is meaning. And when we begin to see each other through that lens — not with judgment, but with reverence — we move closer to the truth: that all of humanity is painted with purpose, and each hue is holy.