Anita shares how falling in love with dance helped her to embrace her vitiligo. Now, she uses her platform to help others accept and celebrate their skin.

My name is Anita Harvey-Warne and I am a Dance Artist from Lincolnshire, England. You can find me on Instagram @vitiligo_anita27.

My vitiligo developed when I was around eight years old. It just started with small patches around my arms, but it very quickly developed to spread across my face and the rest of my body. I wasn’t really that aware of it first. It was the extreme reaction from my parents that made me realise that something wasn’t quite right.

I just remember everyone being extremely confused. No one seemed to know what it was. I remember the school nurse just assuming I had some kind of infection, and it was only after a few doctor’s appointments that they actually realised it was vitiligo. I remember being signposted to a dermatologist whose instant solution was to try and cover my vitiligo with make-up. I was also offered protopic creams that had the potential to ‘cure’ me.

Straight away, this approach changed the way I saw myself. I went from thinking my skin was a really cool part of me, to something unnatural that I had to hide and cover up.

Isolated is a word that will always describe a large chunk of my childhood. I was lucky to have some amazingly supportive friends who shielded me from a lot of the negativity that surrounded me, but it was clear that, a lot of the time, my vitiligo disgusted people. “Disgust” is such a strong and horrible word and it is really sad to think back to that time – and how people’s perceptions had such a negative impact on how I felt about myself.

People would moo at me in the street and make me feel like an animal. Others were scared that I was contagious and would cross the street to avoid me. I became scared to meet new people because I was worried what would they think of me. Relationships were hard. For a long time, I felt that people loved me despite how I looked – rather than loving me for all that I am. Boyfriends would be really interested until it was time for me to meet the family, and then things always got weird. People wanted to be friends with me, but only if we didn’t hang out with their other
friends.

Identity was such a struggle for me growing up too. I was too white to be Indian, but too brown to be white – always feeling like I didn’t quite belong to either side. My mum was adopted and therefore we had no links to our Indian roots. To a lot of my family, I was this strange child they wanted to keep hidden away because they didn’t understand vitiligo.

In secondary school, I was really fortunate to have three teachers who truly made a difference in my life. My dance teacher, Lisa Miles, never let me give up on myself and pushed me to chase my dreams. Paul and Louise Bennett made me believe in myself, gave me courage – especially when I felt I didn’t have any. These people don’t realise how much they saved me in a time when I felt like I was drowning. I hope one day they know how big of a part they played in making me the person I am today.

It was at the age of 13 that I started dancing. Being in the dance studio was the one place where I could express myself without having to use words. Vocalising how I felt just didn’t seem possible. It felt easier to shut myself off, but somehow, through movement, I was able to let myself go and express how I was feeling. I fell in love with how it felt to perform, and I was determined to become a dancer.

Trying to enter such a challenging industry was already hard enough, let alone for someone who looks so different to the stereotypical dancer. For a while, I covered my vitiligo, once again trying to hide away. But I realised if I was ever going to succeed, I had to accept myself. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and started doing photoshoots. Gradually, I realised how beautiful and unique my skin was. I saw the beauty in the photos the photographer would capture of me. My skin was like a map of my life and history. It made me one of a kind. It wasn’t a problem to solve or
a disease that desperately needed a cure. It was my superpower.

I decided that I needed to advocate for those who don’t fit the dancer stereotype. Through the help of social media, I started to share my wonderful vitiligo dance journey with the world. I wanted to show people that no matter who you are or how you look, you can achieve your dream. I now have a thriving career. I am the co-founder of my own dance company, work regularly with other companies, and have even started to train the next generation of dancers.

When I think about my skin today, it makes me feel empowered and bold. There are still the stares and looks of disgust, but I always meet them with a big smile. The prettiest things in nature are always the rarest. There will only ever be one of me, and I am a rare, unique and beautiful part of nature.

Remember, no matter who you are or what you look like, someone is always going to there to judge. If it wasn’t your skin, it would be something else. And that person who has something negative to say nearly always has their own insecurities that they’re trying to hide from the world. That’s why self-love is so important. We’re always going to be a work-in-progress, but each day we can learn to accept ourselves a bit more.

And let me say this loud and clear… Don’t hide your beauty from the world because the world is a much better place with you in it.

I think one thing that is really hard about learning to love yourself for who you are is that the people who try to ‘protect’ you can end up making things worse. My parents thought they were protecting me by not mentioning or discussing my vitiligo, but all that did was make it a longer journey to self-acceptance. I hate talking to my parents about my skin because they still see it as a problem that needs to be solved, but I have come to love my vitiligo. Our relationship still has its challenges, but over time, they have started to understand my perspective.

Writing this story – my story – was more emotional than I could have expected. I shed a few tears, not out of sadness, but from the realisation of how far I have come. If only I could tell my 11-year-old self that everything is going to be okay. But if sharing my story can help just one person feel more confident in their skin and who they are, then I will be happy in knowing that I have made the world a better place.