It started around 2014. At first, I didn’t know what it was. It began as a small dot on my leg. I had thought it was just a normal skin reaction. Over time, it started to spread to different parts of my body.
When it started, I was away at school in a polytechnic. On one of my home visits, my mom noticed the spot and suspected it might be vitiligo, though she wasn’t sure. We went to see a dermatologist, who confirmed it. I was then placed on medication. My official diagnosis was around mid-2014.
It wasn’t easy for me when it first started. People began to react differently. Some stopped talking to me because they thought it was something contagious or maybe a burn. That made me withdraw into myself, even more than I already did.
After taking the drug for a while, we discovered that one of its side effects could be skin cancer. It wasn’t that we didn’t try to research the drug earlier—we were actually misled. The doctor told us the medication could only be obtained through her and that it was imported. She even scratched off the drug’s name, claiming it was hospital policy.
After about 2–4 months, we finally got the name of the drug and researched it properly. My mom found out the risks, and I had to stop taking it immediately.
After that, people advised me to try a herbal treatment. I did that for about 3–4 months, but I saw no improvement. It was just a waste of money, and the herbal mixture was very strong. I became concerned it might damage my kidneys or affect my overall health, so I stopped.
At that point, I decided to leave everything. I told myself, “It’s just my skin. It doesn’t define who I am or my personality.”
At first, I really hated it. People talked down to me and kept their distance, which impacted me psychologically. My confidence dropped. I avoided going out because of the questions, the attention, and how people looked at me. But recently, I started asking myself, “Why should I hate my own skin?”
I realised that before expecting acceptance or love from others, I had to accept myself first. Vitiligo is part of me. I can’t remove my skin, so I had to embrace it.
I began what I’d call self-therapy, constantly reminding myself that there’s nothing wrong with me, and, gradually, I developed self-love.
There was a time I couldn’t even take pictures. Anytime I did, I’d delete them immediately. But now, I’ve learned to accept myself because I can’t change what has already happened.
There was a time I couldn’t even take pictures. Anytime I did, I’d delete them immediately.
Along the way, I also met people who appreciated my skin. Some would say it looked beautiful or unique on me. Of course, I still sometimes experience insults and negative reactions, but I’ve come to see them as part of life.
Not everyone will like you. Maybe 5% will love you, and 95% might not—and that’s okay. That’s just life.
I don’t really have a social life. I’ve been like that right before I developed vitiligo. However, vitiligo has affected my social and relationship life to some extent.
Talking about how it affected my social life, I wanted to actually go out and feel among. When I started, I noticed how people give me space on public transport; how people just give me this weird look and stare, which made me really uncomfortable. When I want to make friends, they don’t even want to talk to me. So I just end up staying indoors throughout, except when I’m going out with my siblings. At some point, I wanted to stop going to church because of the constant stares and questions.
I remember a particular incident during my JAMB lessons. I tried to talk to a girl to borrow her notes, but she refused, saying she couldn’t interact with me because of my skin. She even said she didn’t know if it was contagious. I just smiled and walked away. But when I got home, I cried. As in I cried, premium tears o.
After that moment, I made a decision: I would live my life for myself, not to please others. People can say whatever they want, but that doesn’t define who I am.
I’ve also faced rejections from women. It’s not something I’m happy about, but I’ve gotten used to it and see it as normal life stuff.
Through all these, my family have been by my side since day one; a few of my friends are also cool with it.
For one thing, I love my vitiligo. I also face some health challenges like severe sunburn, but I’ve learnt to manage it, for example, by knowing when to go out and when not, using sunscreen to reduce the sunburn effect.
To anyone living with vitiligo, I would love to say to you: First, love yourself for who you are. That’s the most important step. Second, accept yourself before expecting acceptance from others.
As narrated by: Promise Eyaoghene Agarrey (Isoko, Delta).
Grew up in Lagos, Nigeria. Graduate in Banking and Finance from the University of Benin and a forex trader.
This snippet is published as part of the series, The Complex Reality of Vitiligo.
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