My beauty is in my Nuna Brown skin.  It is in the darkness of my eyes, darkened so that I will not be blinded by my sisters snow and ice.  It is in my salmon-berry blood, blood of survivors and warriors.  My beauty is in my Nuna Brown heart.  

Do not tell me that beauty is blonde and blue eyed.  Do not convince me of my ugliness, for I am more rare than any gem.  More precious than any gold.  Others want to be what I am.  But they cannot.  Do not make me ashamed of my rich heritage because you do not have one of your own.

My beauty is in my love of my man.  In the stitches I sew, each stitch a symbol that wards off winters icy bite.  It is in the sweat that rolls of an amber cheek, as I work to soften caribou skin so that I may mold it in to something that will make him proud.

Do not tell me beauty is q-tip thin and heavy clowns paint  Do not convince me of my worthlessness, for I am all that keeps my family from the coming cold.  I am untold warmth, and unlimited forgiveness.   I am Nanuq's strength, and Natchiq's grace.  My beauty is in my Family ties, do not convince me of our embarassment because you have no family of your own

My beauty is in my Nuna Brown Skin......and my Nuna brown soul.

And I will always....always....