Amine's story

Amine Leith

29 years old
Cologne, Germany
Suffers from Vitiligo

“Do not bother submitting your application.” The clerk said, “we will not even look at it!”

I stormed out of the police station feeling a whole new level of anger, nausea and revolt that I have never experienced before. I guess it took a while for it to finally dawn on me that I will never be accepted in this country.

I was seven years old when I observed in the mirror that I had some unusually light spots around my eyes. Within a few days, they had spread throughout my body. My father scrambled to find me a “cure,” but from early on the doctor told him this pigmentation disorder of mine is here to stay. However, in Morocco, science meant little, and I spent my childhood being dragged around from one herbalist to the next, all believing they could heal this Vitiligo. I was banned from eating meat or dairy, wearing short sleeves or pants, I was made to rub my body with lithium, phosphate and honey and soak in the sun as my skin burnt with excruciating pain. Dad’s desperation led him to be duped into buying pricey remedies that did nothing but cause me potential serious skin diseases or cancer. I hated him for putting me through it at the time because all I wanted was to just go on about it and be normal, but his fatherly instinct rightfully warned him that my life will be anything but.

Having no friends and not being allowed out to play was good for my grades, but terrible for my brain. I was in constant depression. The suicidal thoughts and attempts consumed me. From the early days, I could not bear the thought of not growing out of this condition, and spending my life alone.

Yet, I tried to live with this as best as I could - I went to school and mixed with other children. Some were kind, but to the large majority I was the “leper” of the class who they had to avoid at all costs. I wish it had stayed at that, but the most painful part was the walk home after school, when the bullies ran riot and yelled at me from across the street “Dalmatian,” “cow” and “zebra boy.” I kept my head down as I picked up my pace, until I got home and broke down, and then I would beg my father to allow me to eat meat or wear shorts and stop putting the poisonous materials on my face.

Despite the humiliation and the anger, I still excused them because they were kids, and I had hope that their perception will change when they grow up. But just as I thought that the heartache was over, walking out of that police station five years ago with the feeling of rejection, and having witnessed my dream of becoming a soldier being snatched from me in a matter of seconds, showed me otherwise. Days later, I left to Germany in a last bid for freedom.

“Some were kind, but to the large majority I was the “leper” of the class who they had to avoid at all costs. I wish it stayed at that, but the most painful part was the walk home after school, when the bullies ran riot and yelled at me from across the street “Dalmatian,” “cow” and “zebra boy.””

On my first night there, I walked past another dark man with white spots like mine, but on a much larger scale. I sat and stared at him, then a pretty girl came around and planted a kiss on his mouth, they held hands and went off giggling. My joy at the sight was immeasurable. But it took sometime to think that this could really happen to me one day.

Three years ago, days after I celebrated my 26th birthday, I was stopped on the street and for the first time in my life I heard the words “you’re handsome. I love your spots.”

She asked me if she can take photos of me. I hesitated, but she reassured me. My first reaction after the photoshoot was “Wow, that’s me!”

From that day, I came to love my spots. I’ve finally started to believe how unique and beautiful I am. There are many skin colours on this planet and I get to have two! Now I do modelling as a hobby. I wear shorts and I eat meat, I welcome the attention… I no longer beg God every night to send a cure for my disease, I realise now that it is not a disease. It is a condition that only affects my skin, and should never again get to my head.