The Dark One

Courtesy: www.darrol.com

Flashback...  In the 80s and 90s – my growing up years

(Excerpts from an old conversation in the kitchen, while on vacation at my ancestral home)

Housemaid (to a barely 4-year-old): "Taste this – it is beetroot."

4-year-old: "I didn't like the taste, aunty"

Housemaid: "If you have beetroot, you will get a fair complexion"

All the other ladies in the kitchen with a put-on excitement, in unison: "Yes! Yes!"

4-year-old: "Oh… ok."

In my memory that was probably the first time when it actually hit me that I was dark. It was my introduction to racism, I guess. Though it didn't really hurt at that point in time, it did convey the message that it's not a great plus if you are dark. The 'strive-to-be-fair' code sets somewhere in your brain.

Everyone has growing pains. The one assigned to me was titled skin tone. You counter advices and opinions for everything. Only authorized shades make it to your wardrobe. And in the wardrobe there are certified champions. Yellow was a one-time champion. The trophy passed on to peach a few years down the line. To think of it now, the comedy lies in why only a few colors could make it to my wardrobe. The other colors made me look dark! Well, ain't I dark already?

Home remedy beauty treatments was my worst chore. Curds, turmeric, milk cream, saffron, honey – the list was quite exorbitant. To be honest, the beauty masks give you a lot of hope while you are in it. However, washing the face mask rarely provides any kind of job satisfaction. You are still dark – fresh looking, but yet, dark.

I have and always will cherish my hair. The compliments it fetched were like brownie points to my self-confidence meter. But it had its own limitations. Though I had silky smooth hair, I wasn't really allowed to leave it loose, in my teens. "Mukahthu vettam veezhatte. Athangu ketti vekkunnatha kochinu cherunnathu" ("Tie up your hair. It'll help brighten your face.") Those were the times when I pictured my hair and skin as rivals.

The worst probably was when I overheard that I shouldn't drape a sari because I was dark. For a teenager, that surely hits the jackpot.

As I grew up, I indulged in fairness creams, face masks, bleaches and what not. The umbrella was my bodyguard. It was a never ending revolt against my skin tone.  Light-hearted comments on the lines that I seem fair on an odd day would put me on cloud 9 because the effort behind it was tremendous and in a way, strenuous.

Every struggle gets to a turning point for the good. Mine kicked off with the answer my friend once gave me when I asked her how I looked that day.  She said it with such warmth and a lot of understanding. She looked straight into my eyes and said, “You look good Bis. But, if your question meant to ask if you look fair, the answer is no. That, probably, will never be.”  I just smiled back. I honestly felt caught doing something wrong. 

The rest of the story is not filmy. The face masks and fairness creams didn't jump out of the window the next instance. Things took time. God, in His bounty, gave me dark skin. The brain, however, was bright enough. I was blessed enough to take that advice positively. It was very gradual that I began looking at myself differently. Yes, to some extent I could brighten up my face but the fact remains that I am dark. The sooner I accepted it the better. After all, if the society merits the fair, it is because the dark ones exist.

Today I have moved on and beyond my strike against my own color. Believe me, I feel absolutely confident and great, now that I have simply accepted the fact that I am dark. Some colors make me look a shade lighter and some a shade darker. No more bleaches or fairness creams for me. God gave me more than one serving of melanin and I am proud of it. I love all colors and tend to try all of them. The society remains the same. They have their opinions and suggestions. I nod to all of them and continue with my experiments.

I hope this post comes through as an eye opener for those of you who pass comments (unintentionally or otherwise) to your fellow beings. More importantly, this post, I pray, lights up those who are looking for happiness behind a façade. It may be your height, your weight, your color or your voice. For a start just keep telling yourself that that is what you are. Talk about it and joke about it. It's best to accept and enjoy things you just can't change.

Let me stop on a lighter note. Here's a comment I got from many during my motherhood. (I am glad it made me laugh, rather than offend me):

Society: "Thank God Alexi (my son) has not got his mother's color. And thank God it's a son. What a risk if it were a girl!"

My inner voice: "Boy! Dark mothers shouldn't have girls? Talk about risks… I don't ever want to know what I or my mom would have heard when I was his age.”

The social drama never stops….