Friday, May 8, 1998
Too many think beauty is skin deep
BEAUTY: Color obsession causes discrimination, division within
groups
When I was small, I wanted to be white. My reasoning, though,
was not what one would immediately assume. I wasn’t particularly
affected by media images of Caucasians on TV or in magazines. I
didn’t even understand that most American institutions were run by
whites. I had no idea that I was a minority in my world: I just
wanted my parents to love me more than they already did.
I wouldn’t say that our family was reticent with their displays
of affection when I was child. I have vivid memories of giving my
mom goodbye kisses before I walked the block to elementary school.
I remember sitting in my father’s lap while he read his magazines.
I remember my parents calling me "Putha" and "Thu" which in
Sinhalese are epithets of simple, uncomplicated adoration. No, I
knew I was loved – but like anything one enjoys, I wanted even
more.
I believed that if I were lighter skinned, I would have been
prettier and by extension my parents would have loved me more. I
didn’t understand why I felt this way; I just knew that I would do
whatever was necessary to secure a lighter complexion.
I received subtle cues from my immediate surroundings. I
listened to my mother’s advice to generously cover myself with
sunblock before I went swimming and not to stay out too long. I
knew her advice was not driven by worries about UV rays and skin
cancer, but was a pointed admonition to avoid getting too dark.
I remember hearing newborn babies in my family being called
"fair"; I knew that child had just received the ultimate
compliment. A Sri Lankan baby could be born with the ugliest
features you can imagine, but if he or she is born "fair," he or
she is beautiful. I also recall family members making hushed
remarks about how dark so and so was.
I remember standing in a Sri Lankan store, awestruck by the
silhouetted image of a South Asian woman gradually becoming lighter
and lighter on the package of a skin cream.
In short, I began to associate dark with ugly and light with
beautiful. Perceiving myself as dark-skinned, I saw myself as ugly.
I believed that my dark skin would inhibit me from receiving the
full amount of love I could receive from my parents. But no matter
how much sunblock I slathered on, I always came out a few shades
darker than before.
Then, when I was 12 years old, I went to Sri Lanka. Since I had
grown up in Southern California, I had never been to a place where
so many people looked like me – deep brown skin; large, almost
black eyes; thick, wavy, black hair. Along with my complete
immersion in meeting and greeting the many members of my extended
family, I also had a chance to observe the local people. I was
shocked by what I saw: most of the native Sri Lankans were much
darker than me. How could this be? If all these people were shades
of deep brown, how could being dark-skinned be considered ugly?
As the years passed and I grew into my trademark cynical
personality, I began to view everything with a slightly more
critical point of view. I learned about Manifest Destiny and
imperialism in my history classes and put two and two together.
Could this be true? Were the images of whites which flashed across
my TV screen the same images that Sri Lankans were idolizing on the
other side of the world? Did Sri Lankans value a light complexion
because they emulated their conquerors (the English, Dutch, and
Portuguese)? I decided to go to the only reliable sources on Sri
Lanka I could think of: my parents.
During a car ride home from UCLA, I brought up the subject of
colorism within the Sri Lankan community. I told my parents my
theory, that it is customary for a conquered nation to identify
with the culture and physical image of the conquerors. I told them
that they shouldn’t feel shame for this aspect of our culture, but
that we should recognize the irony of this emulation. My parents
seemed genuinely unaware of the little things they had done or said
to make me feel the way I did about my skin color. In fact, they
never fully acknowledged the idea that light skin equaled beauty.
Although the conversation frustrated me to the point of tears, I
realized that their beliefs made perfect sense to them. It was not
as if this idea of colorism was perpetuated only in my family, or
in my culture for that matter.
While I felt ostracized within my own family because of my skin
color, others have felt this same alienation on a much more
extensive level. I know that colorism is perpetuated throughout the
South Asian community because of my own experiences and because of
my conversations with others. I have read and heard of this same
intragroup discrimination within other races, especially within the
African American community.
Insight into the African American experience can help the rest
of us exorcise the demons of discrimination within our races. In
her documentary, "A Question of Color," Kathe Sandler, who
describes herself as "a Black American woman from an interracial
background," describes the effects of conforming to a European
ideal of beauty. Sandler says that a sort of caste system is set up
where the variable, which can result in higher (or lower) economic
and social status, is merely the tonality of one’s skin color. She
believes that colorism leads many African Americans to feel
discrimination from other races as well as within their own race.
Both dark-skinned and light-skinned African Americans feel
discrimination from their peers, depending on whether light skin or
dark skin is valued at the time.
According to the documentary film "The Color Complex," this
color-consciousness in the black community is not an emulation of
white America, but a product borne out of the days of slavery.
Lighter-skinned slaves were allowed to work inside the main house
while darker-skinned slaves worked in the fields. This led to
divisions among slaves – divisions which, it could be argued, are
still present today.
Intragroup discrimination, whether it be in the Asian community,
the black community, or others (and I suspect that there are
others), stems from the idea that the European ideal of beauty
should be the standard by which all others are judged. Whether it
be Sri Lankans emulating their white conquerors or African
Americans categorizing each other by the leftover principles of
slave days, the discrimination is within our communities.
During an era where an unconscionable amount of intergroup
conflict is evidenced by the passage of Proposition 209, all too
often we forget the conflict within our own races. We cannot
strengthen our own racial communities until we learn to value them
for what they truly are, no matter what differences may exist
within them. Variation of skin color is merely one of the divisive
forces which keeps the downtrodden down; if we can’t tolerate our
people – whatever shade they may be – how can we pretend their
differing religions, linguistic dialects, economic statuses and
places of origin are not enough to polarize us even further?
The problem is not that the Caucasian ideal of beauty is faulty.
Whites can be beautiful, but so can African Americans, Asians and
Latinos. Part of living in a multicultural society means valuing
the racial images of others, but self-pride should not be
compromised. When we derogate our own people to a lower status
because of the mere shade of their skin color, we can’t feign shock
when outsiders criticize us; for if we derogate ourselves, how can
we blame others for following our cue?
I have learned to appreciate the caramel-brown face staring back
at me in the mirror; I compare myself to others and recognize that
my difference is not a handicap, but merely proof of what makes me
unlike everyone else. Pride in our variance will help eradicate the
self-oppression present within our minority communities. We must
appreciate ourselves for what we are and how different we look.
Only then can we ask others to do the same.