If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.
I want to handle this carefully, because I’m talking about skin colour. The importance we humans place on skin colour isn’t particular to just one country, nor is it particular to so-called white people (where did we come up with these inaccurate colour names?). For something that does not impact our capabilities or capacities, we put a lot of stock in it. An inordinate amount. For something that people can make very few choices about, something that’s coded into their DNA, we sure treat people poorly, as if punishing them for those choices they didn’t make. So, as I am about to talk about my skin colour, I want to make something clear: racism is not acceptable. It is rubbish. And, to the extent I can manage to be mindful of and shake off my societal programming, I endeavour not to be racist and not to add to the problems of those whose skin colour gets them way, way more trouble than mine has gotten me. (This is not a post to call for pity or to suggest that my experience is anywhere near the worst. Not at all.)
When I say good things about the colour of my skin, I am absolutely not saying negative things (or even implying negative things) about your skin colour. Your skin colour does not and should not influence my opinion of you (though I reserve the right to be shocked if it’s poorly-done-self-tan orange and you are trying to pass it off as real tan). And so, whilst I am not here to talk about racism today, I want to pause to say “yay for whatever colour your skin is!†and to make it very, very clear that my love of my skin doesn’t even in the slightest imply that it’s better than yours or that you should want your skin to be the colour of mine or that any skin colour should gain anyone privileges. Okay?
Honestly, as an apparently-white girl who has surely benefitted from white privilege, I am beyond-hesitant to talk about racism other than to say it’s wrong and bad and all the stuff I’ve already said. When it comes to racism, I’d much rather read the many things written by people who haven’t had white privilege. I want black voices and brown voices and red voices and yellow voices and any other colour voices to be heard and to be supported. Even writing this up has me feeling very concerned that I’m going to say something stupid. If I do, please forgive me. And, if you have the patience, I promise I try to be educated and to see truths and will continue that self-education as I am pointed at relevant essays and books and such.
Going to take a deep breath now and talk about my skin, hoping I’ve clearly communicated my intent and my stand point on inequalities based on, among other things, skin colour.
So, my skin. I am pale. Really pale. Pale enough that even lightest makeup colours in almost every line I’ve tried have been darker than my actual skin colour. Pale enough that I once had a teacher call me out for breaking dress code based on the white tights I wore every day. (I was not wearing white tights.) I’m one of those who, with little exaggeration, calls herself translucent.
And this skin burns easily. Wow. Really easily. The one time, and it’s a long story but has nothing to do with not liking my skin colour, I tried to carefully give myself little bits of sunlight in successively longer intervals…it didn’t work. I went from pale to burnt and back to pale. Yeah, pale and it’s not going to change.
Plus, skin this pale shows every little red spot or blush or eyebrow in need of tweezing. Not to mention that you can see where the hair will be growing in within minutes of shaving (because, yes, naturally dark hair).
Which is to say that, this skin of mine comes with some issues. Plus, other humans of assorted other colours of skin like to share their negative opinions about my skin colour. More than one (many, many more than one) have had plenty to say to make sure that I know that my pale skin is deserving of insults, that it’s unattractive, that I should feel bad about having it. I had one employer who told me that I had to wear blush because I was too pale and it bothered customers. And that was probably the nicest thing detractors have said.
I’m supposed to strive for a healthy glow (aka not pale, preferably lightly tanned and with a blush on my cheeks). If I’m lucky, for a night out, I might be able to get away with absolutely flawless porcelain skin (with blush). But even that shade is usually based on the lightest in current makeup ranges and a little darker than I am naturally.
Again, I’m not saying the rubbish I’ve dealt with is anything near what people on the receiving end of racism have dealt with. Nope. But I’ve definitely had it made clear by a goodly number of non-alternative people that my skin was something to be ashamed of. And media has taught me that, even if I love this skin, I need to be self-deprecating and at least express some shame in the form of apologies for blinding you if you catch a glimpse of my leg or apologies for being difficult if I prefer to stick to the shade and spare myself the chance of a burn. My skin is a maintenance issue and a joke and, oh my, I’m so sorry. (I’m not sorry.)
And I’m not ashamed. Expecting anyone to be ashamed of skin colour is absolutely, entirely wrong. Wrong. And so I hope that you are not ashamed, no matter your skin colour. And if you’re one of those haters, even if you’re sure you’re entirely not racist but you just think my pale skin is unattractive, keep your opinions to yourself. I am not ashamed of my pale skin. Any shame I might have related to my skin colour would have to do with being ashamed of actions I or anyone arguably of my skin colour (aka white people) have taken that were racist. That’s the only room I have for skin colour-related shame.
Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).