The Grass Ain't Greener on the Fairer Side
WRITTEN BY KELSEY HALL
For this story to make sense, you have to know what I look like. Here’s a broad description: I am of Jamaican descent. I have freckles, pink lips, big eyes and long lashes, I think I am hot stuff, and what can I say God blessed me this way and I am beyond grateful.
You should know that I am truly an introverted individual and I have always been. And yet, I grew up with A LOT of attention, more attention than I ever wanted to receive. I would ALWAYS be stopped in malls, on the street, and in schools when I was little. I was stared at everywhere I went. I’ve been grabbed by strangers so they could ask me questions about who I was and where I came from. I have been catcalled, honked at, defiled and sexually assaulted. Experiences like these made me believe that my beauty was all I had to offer, and my substance did not matter much.
Growing up my hair was a fiery orange colour, the envy of so many grown adults and few of my peers at school. My mom was accused of dying my hair when I was just 3 years old, accused that she had an affair with a white man, and was repeatedly asked if I was her daughter. In short, these kinds of accusations and questions persist even today (although to a lesser degree today). My ‘extreme’ exoticness quite frankly raised questions for everyone it just differed by who asked and their reason for asking.
I began to get a big head because of all the overwhelming attention and compliments I got for looks and hair. So much so, that I was cornered in a bathroom in grade 6 and accused of thinking that I thought I was better than other darker-skinned women/girls because I had fairer skin, freckled, and gingered. I do not remember what lead to this event maybe it was a way of hazing new students, but this event scarred me to the bone. Most family members and friends tried to encourage and comfort me by saying things like “Don’t mind them, they are jealous of you”, “you’re cuter than them”. Which was inappropriate, hurtful to say about another person and it did not make me feel any better.
My life really began in grade 6, because that was when I had my first existential and identity crisis. I had fully absorbed the female ideals by this time but did not know who I was or who I wanted to be yet. I was in a constant influx of contradicting emotions, and ideas; and of course, so many questions following this bathroom bullying experience. I did not know if what they said was the truth. if I was really who they said I was. Was I a self-obsessed high-horsed light-skinned girl, who people didn’t like? I hoped not.
Most questions I had since resolved, but some I still ruminate even on even today, here’s a few:
Are my looks/skin a blessing or a curse?
Do women compare themselves to me and thus think they’re ugly?
Do darker-skinned women suffer because of lighter-skinned women?
Is life easier for me because I am lighter-skinned?
I used to go to bed ruminating on these things, and it resulted in a constantly growing sense of responsibility and necessity to control the views other people had of me, and in many ways over, prove that I was worthy for reasons beyond my skin.
Up until that fateful moment, it seemed like the teachers and most students treated me the same way they did everyone else. I remember being shy and awkward in-class presentations. I was rarely in trouble. I went home straight after school and got strong grades. Before I had thought I was just a good kid; it became apparent that day that I was the token black & gingered girl, and that I was being treated quite differently because of my skin. Even still, it is hard for me to tease out if others were nice to me because they wanted a ginger on their crew, or because I was a smart student and a good person.
I am disgusted that I was targeted for what I looked like which I was considering to be a major pro on my list of blessings. As I see it my transgressors believed that because I was mixed, I looked down on them and that THAT (being half white) was the source of my pride. This hurt me because I have been asked my whole life if both my parents are black, and if I was secretly adopted because my skin somehow shouted Oppressor and Oppressed all at once (FYI I am fully and unapologetically Black. What continues to scar me is that I was considered a part of the colorism problem, rather than a victim like my fellow brown-skinned girls. News flash buddy I did not choose to look like this, just like everyone else I woke up like this.
What my bullies did not know was that being the token black ginger girl at school (and on the streets) did not make me feel powerful or better than, it made me feel like looks were all I could offer. People, but mostly women, kept casting their beauty ideals and their insecurities on me. Many projected their fears that I was looking down on them and reacted to me via this projection, hence the bullying in middle school, the stand-off-ish interactions in high school, and the loss of a few friendships in university.
To some, even if they don’t consciously believe it, choose to think that life is better with fairer skin. I cannot even think of one reason why my life is good because I am fairer-skinned. I have experienced some interesting events, but I could never promote that my life is good solely for my skin colour. It has caused more trouble for me and my relationships than any good, especially in the realms of love. I never got a good explanation as to why fairer skinned and darker-skinned black folk were at war in the first place, we were all oppressed and are still oppressed at the same time. Colorism weakens us as ‘underdogs’ even more there is so much more to fight for than what skin tone has it better.
What makes things even more challenging for me was that people can tell that I am a confident individual and they categorized it as aesthetic pride and being shallow in the fairness of my skin. History keeps repeating itself this way, fairer-skinned at the top and darker-skinned at the bottom. What pisses me off is the lack of reasons why people keep believing it.
The grass ain’t greener on the fairer side.
That is so far from the truth.
I can’t help but think and wonder what it is like for darker-skinned beauties and how colorism has impacted them throughout their lives. I can only report from what I know and experienced. My truth is colorism sucks on every angle and level. No one should feel like they are less than because of their skin, people should not think they are better than others because of their skin either, or live with the expectations and stereotypes that come along with it. We must change how racism and colorism affect the relationships we have with people and change this ideal by discussing and sharing them.
The silver lining to all of this - being mixed can be seen as promise and hope that one day the oppressor and the oppressed can be fully reconciled. Until then we must create the change by having these tough conversations, and refraining from discounting or discrediting anyone’s lived experience, all are essential to unpacking how racism and colourism have impacted us all, and how best we can heal together.
Much love,
Kels