Meet Nyakim Gatwec, A Model That Was Dubbed ‘Queen Of The Dark’

The woman was shocked when her Uber driver uninvitedly offered advise on how to take care of her beautiful skin.

The “Queen of the Dark,” as the fashion diva was affectionately called, laughed off his comments and embraced her breathtaking beauty.

Continue reading to find out what this Uber driver said her and how she utilized it as a teaching moment!

Nyakim Gatwech, who spent her early years in refugee camps in Ethiopia and Kenya, thought that living in America would “be like heaven.”

But when Gatwech moved to Buffalo at the age of 14, she stayed by herself a lot, crying over comments made about her very dark skin tone.

“You don’t wash your hair. Because of this, your skin is filthy.Or, “Nyakim, smile so we can see you. You are invisible to us. You have dirty skin as a result. Or grin for us to see you, Nyakim. We cannot see you.

In class, for example, the instructor might ask a question and say, “Oh, Nyakim, can you answer that?””How about a toddler asking, “Who are you talking to?”? We cannot see her. She’s not here. The now 31-year-old woman says, “I would just cry, and the whole class would start laughing,” as reported by Cosmopolitan.

The innocent young girl just wanted to fit in, but it was difficult when random people were speculating about whether or not she was indeed that dark-skinned and whether or not she was wearing leggings.

I did think about [bleaching my skin] at one time. I was 14 years old when I fled an African refugee camp and moved to Buffalo, New York. The beauty admits, “After being teased [about my skin], I would cry myself to sleep.””So many stunning Sudanese women with dark skin tones bleach their skin.”

The model continued by saying that her own sister was one of the Sudanese ladies who had bleached her skin.”It was my own sister.” However, after a few months of living in America, I told her that I wanted to, and she said no. I will not allow my kid, you, or anyone else to do it.

Dark Queen

The woman, who has encountered prejudice from makeup artists, designers, and other models, is now referred to as the Queen of the Dark and feels strong since she has triumphed over the criticism.

Additionally, Gatwech’s 962,000 dedicated Instagram fans encourage her self-assurance and amazing fondness for her deep chocolate skin tone.

“My chocolate is sophisticated. Thus, I stand for this. A country of fighters,” she writes in one of her posts.

And the incredibly beautiful woman’s admirers can’t get enough of her.

One fan writes, “Omgggggg I love your skin and melanin,” while another exclaims, “I love your beautiful skin tone so much!” God creates exquisite things like you to serve as a constant reminder of His majesty.

In response to the tremendous outpouring of love, Gatwech adds, “I learned to love myself.I’m not troubled by the negative anymore. I love and embrace my skin, and I no longer feel insecure about it. I no longer believe I’m ugly. I am confident in who I am.

“The silliest queries”

Speaking about her odd skin, Gatwech recounts about meeting an Uber driver a few years ago who asked if she would ever consider whitening it.

“Oh, you’re dark,” he remarked.Gatwech describes her chat with the driver to Cosmopolitan.”I merely chuckled. I was curious as to why he felt that I ought to. He said that because it would make my life simpler. If I were lighter, I could get into a relationship more easily and guys would be more drawn to me. I’m lighter, so if I went to a job interview, I would receive the opportunity. I just responded, “I’d rather take the [hard] road, even if] being lighter would make my life easier.”

The woman goes on, “I’m used to people asking the stupidest questions ever [about my skin].”

Gatwech then shared the story on Instagram along with a stunning picture of herself with three other stunning dark-skinned Sudanese women.

“A country with people so dark you won’t believe your eyes,” the author writes. Teeth so brilliant, skin so rich. Oh, how I cherish my nation, my people, and all that it entails.

“[SIC] I was asking my Uber driver the other day, and he said, don’t take this personally, but would you bleach your skin for ten thousand dollars?” she says, going on to describe her interaction with the driver. I couldn’t even respond because I was laughing so much.He then responded, “So that’s a no,” to which I replied, “Hell to the f*king yeah, that’s a no, why would I ever bleach this gorgeous melanin that God bless with me?””So you see it as a blessing,” he continued.

Her backers applauded Gatwech right away and raced to her defense.

“I suppose he missed the memo.”Black is gorgeous,” an admirer writes.

https://avokaddo.com/2024/07/30/meet-nyakim-gatwec-a-model-that-was-dubbed-queen-of-the-dark/?fbclid=IwY2xjawE_vqBleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHTbODKueyyWWQIe-xGk1KXuzwxSbgDTDP0pcMLYp-8lt1C8eE3nPPyLiug_aem_tfvcWLGqxDNnX-skDqvucg

Another person says, “I cherish you for cherishing me.”A third wonders, “Why would we ever want to mess up something so beautiful?”

Asking Yahoo Beauty for guidance, she said, “You are beautiful, you are unique, and there are people who love you just the way you are” to young black girls suffering comparable struggles. It’s said that the juice of a cherry is sweeter the darker it is. Accept your gloom!

If you think that your family and friends will benefit from this tale, please SHARE it with them and leave a comment to let us know!

Following his purchase of a dinner for over $600 I blocked him but it turned out he was trying to warn me

Penelope’s evening seems to be getting more complicated by the minute, but then a simple dinner with David turns into a journey of shocking discoveries that challenge everything she has ever believed to be true about her family and herself. A dinner party that seemed to be going well suddenly becomes a platform for startling revelations that could change her life forever.Have you ever gone on an awful date? Indeed, I concur. This one started off really well, but let’s just say the conclusion went in a direction I wasn’t expecting. So it all began one seemingly ordinary day in the public library.

I got to know David in this way. With his teacherly charm, he started a conversation by asking me about my favorite literature. Before I knew it, we were deep in discussion on everything from classic literature to modern science fiction. It was nice to meet someone who could follow my meandering thoughts.

During our talk, David unexpectedly invited me out—not for a date, but for dinner. “Which restaurant is your favorite?” he said. I remember giggling softly, taken aback by his openness.

I responded, “My favorite place is a bit much for a first date,” but I eventually told him about it. I reserve this lovely spot for indulging in self-indulgence or celebrating personal successes. After all, you don’t typically spend $600 on dinner.

However, I wanted our first meeting to be casual, so I suggested a trendy Mexican eatery that was roughly halfway between us. I winked and added, “They have over 300 tequilas and tacos with handmade tortillas that are to die for.” It’s also quite reasonably priced.

David listened intently, but he was certain about choosing the spot. I appreciated his initiative as much as I wanted those amazing tacos. Compromise is necessary in big cities with awful traffic, especially if you live on opposite sides of the spectrum.

Now allow me to discuss my favorite restaurant. It’s this incredible location where James Beard award-winning mixologists deliver bite-sized pieces of heaven with their concoctions. Every now and then I go there just to enjoy a drink and take in the lavish setting.

David hesitated for a moment, then suddenly insisted on going to my favorite fancy restaurant. After all, who was I to argue? It is, after all, my favorite place. Thus, we departed.

The start of the evening was quite pleasant. We got the delectable little morsels I mentioned before as appetizers, and the cocktails continued to be intriguing.

Dinner was brought, dish after exquisite dish, and there was much joshing and animated conversation. We even had dessert, which is unusual for me unless it’s a really special occasion. We were clearly having a fantastic time, in my opinion.

But how did the evening unfold, my dear? After paying the significant amount, which was obviously more than $600, something unexpected happened.

My card slipped out of my bag and landed on the table out of habit. Things started to go weird after David took up the cause. Rather of simply handing it back, he examined it closely.

Then he did something that made my stomach turn to gravel: he examined every detail and stated, “You should be careful with this,” before putting the card down.

Upon further reflection, it’s possible that he had bad intentions. But it felt like a major invasion of my privacy at the time. Why did he have to be so indifferent to my card? Is there any way he could have given it back without saying something like that?

I quickly called it a night, feeling both humiliated and furious. I thanked him, if a little stiffly, got into a cab, and as soon as I arrived home, I blocked him. Nothing, not even a text or call.

I spoke with a friend about it today, and they said maybe I had been too hard on David. They said that I could have just asked him about it and that there might have been a good reason for him to look at my card.

But all I could think about at the moment was how he had ruined the whole evening and my mood. And so, while I was still thinking about the awful dinner, life decided to throw me another curveball.

Two days after I had pushed the block button on David, here he was, standing outside my house. You did hear that, that’s true. He seemed apologetic and uncomfortable, like he had something important to say.

When he murmured, “Penelope, I’m so sorry,” I could see he meant it by the look in his eyes. “I needed to make sure it was really you, Penelope Smith.”

I listened, confused as I was at this point, as he took a big breath and revealed something startling that would change my life forever. “I’m your half-brother,” was his reply, barely discernible above a whisper.

I tried to process what he had said while I blinked. How could David, the guy I recently turned down for the library date, be my half-brother? He said that the man I had always considered to be my father was not the one I was born with. Instead, it was his father who cheated on my mother. It sounded like something out of a soap opera.

The days that followed went very swiftly. We decided to have DNA testing done because this was a substantial enough claim to not rely solely on faith. The world did indeed have one more surprise in store for me when the results were in: we were, in fact, half-siblings.

My emotions were all over the place as I stood there clutching the results. I was not only surprised, but I also had an odd kind of curiosity for my unidentified half-brother. I wasn’t sure if I should tell my parents. Such details could disclose a lot of things.

In the end, I realized that some things are just too significant to overlook, regardless of the consequences. I made the decision to tell them, as I wanted, and on my terms. Meanwhile, David and I started to painstakingly create the sibling bond that none of us ever had.

Beneath the strangeness and discomfort, there was a relationship that was potentially just as important as the one I had expected from my meet-cute in the library.

Folks, that is all there is to it. A family gathering turned from a supper to a crisis of self. Is it not the case that life operates in peculiar ways?

In order to pay the bill, my significant other insisted that I give the server my card.
It was meant to be an evening of celebration exclusively. After six months at my new job, I was thrilled to finally inform my boyfriend Troy that I had gotten a huge raise.

He recommended the newest, posh restaurant in town, the one with the gorgeous interior and gourmet fare.

He said, “Lisa, let’s just get dressed and head out.” Since we don’t get to do this very often, let’s make the most of it.

We didn’t always choose to go out and do anything, I had to agree. This was not always the case.

“No problem,” I replied. “We really need to go out for a night.”

And I believed that we required it. Mostly because I had begun to see some signs of dissolution in our partnership, even though I wanted to believe that Troy and I were intended to be together forever. It felt, to put it simply, off.

Troy didn’t feel satisfied with his career, but I did.

During a salsa night one evening, he bitterly observed, “I do so much, but nobody bothers to recognize me.”

Troy sat on the couch, dipping his chips in the salsa and guacamole, and complained about his job for the entire evening.

Because of his opinions about my work, I refrained from complimenting him.

“Maybe you just need to give it more time,” I said, passing him a cool margarita alongside. “It’s only been a few months since you arrived.”

“Please,” he muttered to Lisa. “You were unable to understand. Give me room to exist.

But as I found out about this incredible chance, I was giddy with anticipation. I assumed Troy would feel the same about being recognized and having a celebration.

I was astonished when he told me he was proud of me and seemed sincere about it.

“Really, babe,” he said as he arrived to pick me up from my flat. “I admire you, and this is very important.”

The start of the evening was quite pleasant. Troy waited for me to finish getting ready before showing up with a bunch of roses. This was an exception to the rule that he disliked it when I took longer to get dressed than when he arrived.

“Come on,” I said. “I’m ready!”

Penelope’s evening seems to be getting more complicated by the minute, but then a simple dinner with David turns into a journey of shocking discoveries that challenge everything she has ever believed to be true about her family and herself. A dinner party that seemed to be going well suddenly becomes a platform for startling revelations that could change her life forever.Have you ever gone on an awful date? Indeed, I concur. This one started off really well, but let’s just say the conclusion went in a direction I wasn’t expecting. So it all began one seemingly ordinary day in the public library.

I got to know David in this way. With his teacherly charm, he started a conversation by asking me about my favorite literature. Before I knew it, we were deep in discussion on everything from classic literature to modern science fiction. It was nice to meet someone who could follow my meandering thoughts.

During our talk, David unexpectedly invited me out—not for a date, but for dinner. “Which restaurant is your favorite?” he said. I remember giggling softly, taken aback by his openness.

I responded, “My favorite place is a bit much for a first date,” but I eventually told him about it. I reserve this lovely spot for indulging in self-indulgence or celebrating personal successes. After all, you don’t typically spend $600 on dinner.

However, I wanted our first meeting to be casual, so I suggested a trendy Mexican eatery that was roughly halfway between us. I winked and added, “They have over 300 tequilas and tacos with handmade tortillas that are to die for.” It’s also quite reasonably priced.

David listened intently, but he was certain about choosing the spot. I appreciated his initiative as much as I wanted those amazing tacos. Compromise is necessary in big cities with awful traffic, especially if you live on opposite sides of the spectrum.

Now allow me to discuss my favorite restaurant. It’s this incredible location where James Beard award-winning mixologists deliver bite-sized pieces of heaven with their concoctions. Every now and then I go there just to enjoy a drink and take in the lavish setting.

David hesitated for a moment, then suddenly insisted on going to my favorite fancy restaurant. After all, who was I to argue? It is, after all, my favorite place. Thus, we departed.

The start of the evening was quite pleasant. We got the delectable little morsels I mentioned before as appetizers, and the cocktails continued to be intriguing.

Dinner was brought, dish after exquisite dish, and there was much joshing and animated conversation. We even had dessert, which is unusual for me unless it’s a really special occasion. We were clearly having a fantastic time, in my opinion.

But how did the evening unfold, my dear? After paying the significant amount, which was obviously more than $600, something unexpected happened.

My card slipped out of my bag and landed on the table out of habit. Things started to go weird after David took up the cause. Rather of simply handing it back, he examined it closely.

Then he did something that made my stomach turn to gravel: he examined every detail and stated, “You should be careful with this,” before putting the card down.

Upon further reflection, it’s possible that he had bad intentions. But it felt like a major invasion of my privacy at the time. Why did he have to be so indifferent to my card? Is there any way he could have given it back without saying something like that?

I quickly called it a night, feeling both humiliated and furious. I thanked him, if a little stiffly, got into a cab, and as soon as I arrived home, I blocked him. Nothing, not even a text or call.

I spoke with a friend about it today, and they said maybe I had been too hard on David. They said that I could have just asked him about it and that there might have been a good reason for him to look at my card.

But all I could think about at the moment was how he had ruined the whole evening and my mood. And so, while I was still thinking about the awful dinner, life decided to throw me another curveball.

Two days after I had pushed the block button on David, here he was, standing outside my house. You did hear that, that’s true. He seemed apologetic and uncomfortable, like he had something important to say.

When he murmured, “Penelope, I’m so sorry,” I could see he meant it by the look in his eyes. “I needed to make sure it was really you, Penelope Smith.”

I listened, confused as I was at this point, as he took a big breath and revealed something startling that would change my life forever. “I’m your half-brother,” was his reply, barely discernible above a whisper.

I tried to process what he had said while I blinked. How could David, the guy I recently turned down for the library date, be my half-brother? He said that the man I had always considered to be my father was not the one I was born with. Instead, it was his father who cheated on my mother. It sounded like something out of a soap opera.

The days that followed went very swiftly. We decided to have DNA testing done because this was a substantial enough claim to not rely solely on faith. The world did indeed have one more surprise in store for me when the results were in: we were, in fact, half-siblings.

My emotions were all over the place as I stood there clutching the results. I was not only surprised, but I also had an odd kind of curiosity for my unidentified half-brother. I wasn’t sure if I should tell my parents. Such details could disclose a lot of things.

In the end, I realized that some things are just too significant to overlook, regardless of the consequences. I made the decision to tell them, as I wanted, and on my terms. Meanwhile, David and I started to painstakingly create the sibling bond that none of us ever had.

Beneath the strangeness and discomfort, there was a relationship that was potentially just as important as the one I had expected from my meet-cute in the library.

Folks, that is all there is to it. A family gathering turned from a supper to a crisis of self. Is it not the case that life operates in peculiar ways?

In order to pay the bill, my significant other insisted that I give the server my card.
It was meant to be an evening of celebration exclusively. After six months at my new job, I was thrilled to finally inform my boyfriend Troy that I had gotten a huge raise.

He recommended the newest, posh restaurant in town, the one with the gorgeous interior and gourmet fare.

He said, “Lisa, let’s just get dressed and head out.” Since we don’t get to do this very often, let’s make the most of it.

We didn’t always choose to go out and do anything, I had to agree. This was not always the case.

“No problem,” I replied. “We really need to go out for a night.”

And I believed that we required it. Mostly because I had begun to see some signs of dissolution in our partnership, even though I wanted to believe that Troy and I were intended to be together forever. It felt, to put it simply, off.

Troy didn’t feel satisfied with his career, but I did.

During a salsa night one evening, he bitterly observed, “I do so much, but nobody bothers to recognize me.”

Troy sat on the couch, dipping his chips in the salsa and guacamole, and complained about his job for the entire evening.

Because of his opinions about my work, I refrained from complimenting him.

“Maybe you just need to give it more time,” I said, passing him a cool margarita alongside. “It’s only been a few months since you arrived.”

“Please,” he muttered to Lisa. “You were unable to understand. Give me room to exist.

But as I found out about this incredible chance, I was giddy with anticipation. I assumed Troy would feel the same about being recognized and having a celebration.

I was astonished when he told me he was proud of me and seemed sincere about it.

“Really, babe,” he said as he arrived to pick me up from my flat. “I admire you, and this is very important.”

The start of the evening was quite pleasant. Troy wa

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