Added: Jaunita Marron - Date: 05.08.2021 10:19 - Views: 32452 - Clicks: 5190
Even after all these years, it leaves me exasperated. Some might consider it to be yet another long, slender tentacle that emerges from unrealistic beauty standards, but the truth is, colourism runs deeper than the superficial. The mindset has even led to recent cases of outright discrimination against Africans in the country, earning us a label as one of the most racist countries in the world. Despite being a lived reality for so many people, especially women, the narrative is slowly changing though.
A tiny revolution against it is building up as more and more young people speak up about its absurdity through various mediums - be it spoken word poetry, art, illustrations or simply opening up via social media about the injustice of it all. Young Indians from all over the country wrote in to share their personal journeys of shame, acceptance and breaking of stigmas that have surrounded their dark skin in a truly overwhelming show of strength and self-love.
From biting comebacks to nosey aunties to continuing struggles with their complexion - their stories are varied even as they share striking similarities. Brown baby girl thought her mother was the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world.
She would imitate, copy, repeat everything her mother would do. Even sneakily wear her heels, red lipstick, wrap herself in a make shift dupatta saree.
She would detest her brown skin, especially when neighbours would pass comment saying that brown baby girl did not look anything like her mother. It would totally piss her off. She would not step out in the sun and apply many bad fair skin product just to match her fair skinned mother. They all are very pretty.
Am I beautiful, Maa? Since then she never ever tried to hide or run because she knew her mum is always by her side. I was the fortunate brown baby girl. Most of the times we adults forget that we are influential. Kids look at us - they learn, they are blind followers and the ones who are highly influenced by society. But it has never stopped me from doing anything. As I was told to do many things, including bleach my face as a 9-year-old! I have faced several funny read: hurtful, for a teenager instances, but I, at this point, can only remember one that was also very embarrassing that I recall.
Staff room gossips played a very important role for us students in school. I was 12 years old, new to the city, and had very few friends still persists. But obviously someone had to, so my teachers did. The whole staff room did.
There were unknown teachers, peons and random people walking in involved in the conversation with me in the centre. I laughed, there was silence. I feel more than funny anecdotes for any dark skinned woman, there will be anger, embarrassment, shame and wonder of why they are born with a colour so demeaning.
The reasoning turns out to be my skin colour, the most unimportant subject in the universe.
Unlearning is difficult for everyone but am I in a better if not good place with my body and skin colour? Under such circumstances, I sometimes would try to use these absurd fairness remedies! So there was I, a dark-skinned girl who hated her existence. But everything around me changed the day I realised I was pretty, just the way I am.
They not only thought I was pretty, but started envying my skin colour. I only wish the year-old me had known this, that she was pretty then also and she should not have bothered about what others thought. And remember. The day you start believing you are pretty, people will follow suit.
Beauty comes from within. Never waste time in becoming someone who you are not, rather just embrace and love yourself, learn new things and life will change for the better. Now that we have that out of the way, my skin color was literally my only identification when I was a little girl.
I think the stinky after-bath smells aside, the one thing that would actually get to me was my well-meaning mother assuring me that she loved me despite my colour, because how else do you teach a pre-teen self worth? Until I was around 13, I was always convinced my skin color was an affliction. A disease, that I would have to come on top of, to get Any big girls or dark skin achieve anything of note. Cultural Exposure: So the thing with our melanin obsessed culture, is that we never do celebrate women of color. Thankfully, I took to reading very early. I learnt of a world that existed outside of our colonial obsession.
I learnt that beauty was multi-faceted. There was no one way to be beautiful. There are beautiful dark women, just like there are beautiful fair women. Skin color could be a matter of preference and conditioning, sure! All of which, you cultivate and grow into. Giving No Fucks: This was a derivative of the first, but really, they go hand-in-hand.
And I felt good, doing it. When I felt good, it showed. You life is literally your show on the road. The world is waiting on als from you. Fall in love with yourself, the world is chickenshit, it will follow suit. Cruel words, no matter how well-intentioned, do sting.
But one thing one must always remember myself included is that you owe it to yourself to rise above. You owe it to yourself to live the life you want to lead- blonde hair, bright lipsticks, short skirts- go for it! Throw back your head and do exactly what you want to. No doubt that lighter skin is something that is celebrated hugely. Up until now I was never comfortable with my skin, my body; I was always scrutinised for being dark. Obviously being I kind of did what I was told.
But it made me turn in on myself, disliking my complexion, making me think that I should be light skinned to be beautiful. To be normal. I mean how wrong is that?! That I automatically created a safety action by making a joke of myself to feel accepted. Thinking about it makes my stomach turn, makes me feel for the mindset I had as the girl I was growing up to be. I was vulnerable, insecure, innocent. Being told that I should scrub the maal dirt in Punjabi off my face daily by the older generation to make me lighter seemed like a huge chore, it made me feel so so conscious of who I was.
I always used to question myself, why? But always did it. There was even a time when I used a skin lightening cream that was given to me from India, a pearlescent white cream with a rosey floral scent. A modern example of this is through Snapchat filters and contouring through makeup.
What scares me is that it has become so accessible that even girls as young as sixteen are becoming affected through the use of westernised snapchat filters which include features that lighten skin tones and give blues eyes. Furthermore, why is it that whilst darker skin faces degradation, people of lighter skin are praised for being tanned? A feature also used in a Snapchat filter - a hypocritical paradox.
We live in a cruel world where sexuality and youthfulness are praised by both sexes more than anything. Where being yourself, embracing your natural self is still scrutinised the same as with people who wear makeup on a daily. Love yourself.
Know that your skin, whatever colour it may be is absolutely beautiful. During one such conversation way before I was a teen, my mother told me about her first boyfriend - the man she was convinced was the love of her life. After dating for a couple years and zipping around town on his motorbike, they decided it was time to tell their parents. Their conversation basically boiled down to the contrasting colors of their skin.
Being brown for me is a lack of confidence. This was me when I was in a hostel in Pune for 5 years. I was a new admission and was not spoken to by any classmate for a few months. As years passed by, I did make a few friends but they were not true friends.
Never did they support me once when I was called names because of my skin colour. When we went on trips, I would be the last to get chosen as a roommate because of my skin colour. In class, no boy use to sit beside on anywhere around me because I was dark and they stupidly believed that I was an unhygienic person. After all those years, the past always catches up when I see my pictures. My mother decided to take me to a dermatologist. It did make my skin lighter but it was not light enough for my mom.
For a few years, she forbid me to go out before a certain time anywhere even if it was in the car. She would make me sit in my room and make me hate myself for being dark. Today, I dread going to parlours because they make you feel like shit the minute they open their mouth. The people over there helped me partly for my treatment and actually do care. Some days I just want to sit at home and hide myself where no one can see me.
My journey to self-acceptance has not begun. Not once have I gone out without makeup. The day I do, will be my first step. The scars do remain - when people ask questions based on my past, there was absolutely nothing good about it.
I am not in contact with any person from my hostel life though they are all over my social media. Sometimes when I watch movies, it all comes back to me. I guess the past is something which will remain with me for life. Start early, open your mouth to whoever even tries to tell you something. Be open with your mom and tell her how you feel.Any big girls or dark skin
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