Colorism: Through the Lens of an Afro-Caribbean Woman

As a child, I would sit quietly and listen to adult conversations (sometimes I was definitely eavesdropping). For some reason, I would store up the content I did not understand and later examine it when I was older. One such conversation, amongst a group of men, was about what makes a woman beautiful. The consensus was that a light-skinned woman was truly beautiful if with darker skin her beauty did not decrease.

For many years, that conversation puzzled me. On a daily basis, I saw men and women laud lighter-skinned women, whether mixed race, White or the lightest skin tone of any of the races in my country. I would try to imagine many of these women as very dark and I could see their beauty fade based on the criteria of those men. Yet, the dark-skinned women all around me were not even part of the beauty conversation.

Then Wendy Fitzwilliam, a Trinidadian, won Miss Universe in 1998. Suddenly, I was hearing conversations dissecting whether or not she was beautiful and expressing the shock that a dark-skinned woman could win such a title. Whilst in other camps, the darker-skinned people were elated to see themselves represented on stage and publicly lauded as beautiful. It was in these latter conversations, that I heard the pain expressed about how unfavorably they had been treated over the years based on their skin color. That is the essence of colorism, people from the same race treating those with a lighter skin tone more favorably than those with a darker skin tone.

Over the years, I would reflect upon my laughing when a dark-skinned Black girl was mocked for her skin color in elementary school. I remember feeling ashamed when she cried. I know some of the dark-skinned boys were also teased but I never saw them cry. Perhaps it was her tears that shamed me and not the actual bullying. Fast forward to hearing those adults speak about the pain they endured because of their dark skin, it was then that I truly understood the impact of my friends’ mocking words.

Later when I taught high school chemistry, I spent much time with the students outside of the classroom and was often included in their conversations. It helped that I was close in age and looked as young as they did. One young man who was quite brilliant but often the recipient of teasing by his closest friends for his dark skin. Very dark-skinned Indians are often Madras and can be mistaken as Black by those who are lack knowledge in this area. I recognized his pain as what I had seen in the little Black girl in elementary school. In several of our conversations he would reveal the pain of those words from his “friends” and others in his life. I wanted him to speak up for himself but I realized that it was more important for him to know that I saw him. Whenever I was around I would speak on his behalf and scold the group but most of the time I felt anger and helplessness.

For most of my childhood, I had never had any comments pointed in my direction about my skin color. In fact, I was often called sapodilla girl because of my brown skin. Who would think that there was anything wrong with me!

I started taking these modeling classes, mostly to learn how to do my own hair and makeup and to improve my posture and walk. Things were going quite well until the discussions got to skin tone. It was common to hear about ways to lighten your elbows and knees, as they tend to be more pigmented on Black folks. What was shocking to me, was a discussion on the pubic area needing to be an ideal color and the steps needed to achieve that. This lighter-skinned Black woman was telling me some illogical mess and cited her light-skinned daughters as success stories. I could not believe the unscientific poppycock she was sending my way.

Now had she told me about skin bleaching when I was a child and it was reinforced around me, then perhaps I would have accepted it as fact. Because I had not suffered the cumulative impact of having my skin color condemned for being too dark, it was easy for me to reject the nonsense and move on. But I know that is not the case for many. Skin bleaching is a multi-billion dollar industry and targets those who are seeking to make their skin lighter. Many bleach their skin to the detriment of their health. I once heard a young woman discuss how she was treated better after bleaching her skin by her family and condemned when she stopped. When your family members and others in society speak words of condemnation over you, it is easy to accept what is said and internalize it as truth.

It is important to note that these words of condemnation start from infancy. I know several people with family members who inspected their infant’s ears and other body parts trying to identify whether or not the baby would be dark-skinned. They then make snide remarks in that child’s presence, often comparing said child to other lighter-skinned ones. Some parents encourage their daughters to marry white men so that it would improve the skin color of the family. Others hide their Blackness when they can easily pass as White.

No matter where in the world you live, there is an overarching belief system that being White is better. It is so deep rooted in many cultures, that it is often the recipients of such oppression who can name it.

Now that the world is in the midst of a cultural shift, it is time that we also examine our own internalized beliefs about ourselves and others.

Ten questions to ask yourself about colorism:

1. How do you judge yourself in relation to others from your own race?

2. Do you differentiate based on skin tone, socioeconomic status, job type, education, religion, country of origin, speech patterns?

3. On a deeper level, how did you develop/learn the criteria used to make such distinctions, for example, on skin tone?

4. How has making such distinctions impacted your interactions with other people from your race?

5. Have you passed these beliefs down to others in your sphere of influence?

6. What practical steps will you take to change this belief system and repair some of the damage done on self and others?

7. If you were the recipient of colorism, what beliefs have you internalized about your dark skin?

8. How have those internalized beliefs impacted your life?

9. If you still hold those beliefs, what steps have you taken to avoid passing them down to the next generation?

10. What steps have you taken to unlearn some of those internalized beliefs you hold about yourself?