‘You Are Not Alone’: Letter to My 10-Year-Old Self

I know how tough it is to be the only dark-skinned girl in class.

Dear 10-year-old me,

Normally an informal letter starts with a ‘how is school’ but in your case, I won’t because I know how tough it is to be the only dark-skinned girl in class.

It must be very hard going to school everyday with a smile on your face, after crying yourself to sleep the night before. After a point, Amma will stop asking – she doesn’t want to hear that her 10-year-old is crying because someone called her kaali again. It must be that Ritwik.

It will get better, hang in there.

Even after being called “kaali kaluti, baigan jesi, koyla, blacky” and facing those disgusted looks – you still wake up each day and go. You are so brave, I wish I could be like you now.

Despite knowing the entire poem better than anyone else, you won’t be chosen because “strong makeup won’t look good on her”. You will lose out on some opportunities because you look different. There will always be some people who will ask with a smirk, “ Are you from Africa?”.

It’s okay. It will get better.

People will tell you all your life what to do and what not to do – not in the regular sense. People will tell you not to wear off-shoulder or crop tops so that your skin doesn’t get ‘darker’. People will tell you to drink more milk and less coffee, even though you love coffee. People will recommend all sorts of products to you: Fair & Lovely cream, multaani mitti, besan, Ayurvedic oil, curd , Ayurvedic scrub and other things, which supposedly will make you “fair”.

Didn’t Sangeeta aunty come up with yet another nuska for you to become fair? Don’t listen to them, all you will get is allergies and acne.


Also read: Exploring ‘The Bluest Eye’, Beauty and Colourism


Society is so unaware of the science behind skin colour that people will go around spreading rumours about you smearing black paint on your face every morning.

Take pity on them, and don’t cry in bed.

You will get tired of it, but people won’t stop saying: “If you had been a bit lighter, you would look amazing”, “you are fine looking for a dark person”, “you are dark yet very pretty”. It is not you, it’s this prejudiced society we live in that considers fair skin as the only standard for beauty.

You must get uncomfortable watching Fair & Lovely advertisements on TV, that say guys don’t even look at dark-skinned girls or that they can never get a job they want.

It must be tough for a Bollywood buff like you to sit through movies when most movies and songs somehow imply that “goris” are always preferred.

While the song lyrics might change some day from ‘gori gori’ to ‘chittiyaan kalaaiyaan’ – the ideology won’t. But don’t worry, a time will come when you will be able to laugh at these advertisements and songs and you will realise that you don’t need that pinkish/whitish glow.

After submitting to years of mockery and criticism, I realised that snapping at people or trying to be invisible is not the solution.

But changing my attitude towards the problem is.

Usually, a letter like this ends on a hopeful note but I can’t – I can’t give you the hope that in future, people won’t treat you differently because of the way you look. In fact, even now, people are getting killed all over the world because of their skin colour.

But, as they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Everything you are going through now will give you the strength to face what the world has to offer.

Never forget, you are not alone. Millions of people are going through the same. Hang in there. Laugh at the ridiculous comments.

Love,

Future self.

Malavika is a journalism student at Kamala Nehru College, DU. 

Featured image credit: Annie Spratt/Unsplash

As India’s Love for Light Skin Continues, Some Younger Women are Pushing Back

Aranya Johar’s Brown Girl’s Guide to Beauty, a spoken-word poem containing lines like “Forget snow-white/say hello to chocolate brown/I’ll write my own fairy-tale” went viral, reaching 1.5 million viewers in its first day alone.

Aranya Johar’s Brown Girl’s Guide to Beauty, a spoken-word poem containing lines like “Forget snow-white/say hello to chocolate brown/I’ll write my own fairy-tale” went viral, reaching 1.5 million viewers in its first day alone.

Fair and lovely

In India, a light complexion is associated with power, status and beauty, fuelling an innovative and growing market of skin-bleaching products. Credit: Adam Jones/Flickr CC BY-SA via The Conversation

From Sunday classified ads touting the marriageability of an “MBA graduate. 5-½ ft. English medium. Fair complexion” to elderly aunties advising young women to apply saffron paste to “maintain your skin whiter and smoother”, the signs are everywhere.

Even sentiments like, “She got lucky he married her despite her [dark] complexion” are still whispered around India in 2017.

Younger generations are now starting to push back. On July 7, 18-year-old Aranya Johar published her Brown Girl’s Guide to Beauty on Youtube. The video, a spoken-word poem containing lines like “Forget snow-white/say hello to chocolate brown/I’ll write my own fairy-tale” went viral, reaching 1.5 million viewers around the world in its first day alone.

Johar’s candid slam came just before Bollywood actor Nawazuddin Siddiqui used Twitter to indict the Indian film industry’s racist culture. His post recalled the vehement pushback of actress Tannishtha Chatterjee, who was was bullied for her skin tone on live TV in 2016.

Though many Indians still feign ignorance about social discrimination based on skin colour, the country’s obsession with whiteness can also be violent. In recent years, fear of black and brown skin has also spurred harassment and attacks on African students living in India.

The bleaching syndrome 

But why do Indians so hate their own colour? History offers some answers.

Throughout medieval and modern history, the Indian subcontinent has been on the radar of various European settlers and traders, including, from the 15th to 17th centuries, the Portuguese, Dutch and French. The subcontinent was invaded and partly ruled by the Mughals in the 16th century, and colonised by the British from the 17th century onwards until independence in 1947. All these foreign “visitors” were of relatively fair complexion and many claimed to be superior.

Being subject to a succession of white(ish) overlords has long associated light skin with power, status and desirability among Indians. Today, the contempt for brown skin is embraced by both the ruling class and lower castes, and reinforced daily by beauty magazine covers that feature almost exclusively Caucasian, often foreign, models.

It’s been the dark man’s burden in this majority-non-white nation to desire a westernised concept of beauty, and post-colonial activism has not been able to change this.

According to a study we conducted from 2013 to 2016, 70% of the 300 women and men we interviewed reported wanting a date or partner with someone who had light skin. This colourism is what pushes so many Indians to lighten their skin, creating a phenomenon termed “bleaching syndrome”.

Bleaching syndrome is not a superficial fashion, it’s a strategy of assimilating a superior identity that reflects a deep-set belief that fair skin is better, more powerful, prettier. And it’s not limited to India; skin bleaching is also common in the rest of Asia and in Africa.

A thriving bleaching market 

An inventive and growing market of creams and salves has cropped up to fill this demand, which now pulls in over $400 million annually.

Some of the most widely-sold products include Fem, Lotus, Fair and Lovely and its gendered-equivalent Fair and Handsome. Most of these appealingly named creams are in fact a dangerous cocktail of steroids, hydroquinone, and tretinoin, the long-term use of which can lead to health concerns like permanent pigmentation, skin cancer, liver damage and mercury poisoning among other things.

Various skin-lightening products are found across India and online, no prescription or restrictions required. Credit: Neha Mishra via the Conversation

Nonetheless, a 2014 marketing study found that almost 90% of Indian girls cite skin lightening as a “high need”. These young women are willing to overlook the after-effects of bleaching, and the advent of online sales allows them to use these products in the privacy of their own homes.

Initially focused on feminine beauty, the fairness creams market now also caters to Indian men. Products marketed to men promise to fight sweat, give them fairer underarms and attract women.

And Bollywood megastars with huge followings, including Shahrukh Khan and John Abraham, regularly endorse and promote skin bleaches.

Bleaching backlash 

The brand Clean and Dry took bleaching to new levels in 2012, when it began heavily advertising for a new wash to lighten the vagina.

This time, women had had enough. In 2013, the activist group Women of Worth launched their Dark is Beautiful campaign, which was endorsed by actress Nandita Sen.

With other feminist groups, the women compelled the Advertising Standards Council of India to issue guidelines in 2014 stating that “ads should not reinforce negative social stereotyping on the basis of skin colour” or “portray people with darker skin [as]…inferior, or unsuccessful in any aspect of life particularly in relation to being attractive to the opposite sex”.

This guidance is in keeping with the Indian constitution, which provides for equality for all (article 14) and prohibits discrimination on the grounds of religion, race, caste, sex or place of birth (article 15).

Unfortunately, the law can do little to stop the subtler forms of racism and bigotry present in Indian society. And, to date, that vagina bleaching product is still on the market.

The “bleaching syndrome” goes far beyond skin colour, with Indian women also questioning their hair texture and colour, speech, marital choices and dress style, raising real concerns about female self-esteem.

As Aranya Johar rhymed on Youtube, “With the hope of being able someday to love another/let’s begin by being our own first lovers”.

Neha Mishra, Assistant Professor of Law, Reva University of Bangalore and Ronald Hall, Professor of Social Work, Michigan State University

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article