The Dance of Colorism

A while back, a publication was seeking writing on the topic of how colorism has affected the way I live in and see the world. I was not accepted in that publication, but I would like to share this essay on the topic:

Memories of colorism

My first memories of colorism are from my childhood. My family was one of the only non-white families living in a suburban neighborhood of Indianapolis, Indiana. I recall the neighborhood kids saying the Kumars live in a brown house because they are brown people. I do not recall how this made me feel at that age. However, the simple fact that it stuck with me, speaks to my awareness of colorism.

As I grew older, I had facial hair on my upper lip. Bullies often teased me in my mostly white elementary school to “shave my mustache.” By the time I was 12, my older sister was bleaching her facial hair with Jolen cream bleach that my mother provided her. I was constantly scolded for not doing the same as my sister and my mom did.

I would complain that Jolen burns my skin and makes me red in the face. It wasn’t until I reached about 15, that I too saw the absolute necessity of bleaching my facial hair. Even though I secretly admired the self-portraits of Frida Kahlo when I was a teen, I knew no one would appreciate my send-off to the artist if I refused to bleach my facial hair.

So, I let the Jolen bleach burn my skin and spent the rest of the day away from the sun and hot water to make sure my bleach job held. I do the same today, except the more expensive version. I wax — and avoid sun exposure and exercise and hot water for at least half a day after a good wax of my bushy eyebrows, mustache, and sideburns.

Waxing is now just an easy thing to do, and I am privileged enough to afford to do it every three weeks. If I don’t wax, the feelings of being that awkward Indian girl in a mostly white elementary school creep up in me. I feel as if people talk to my mustache if I delay a wax. I remember kids just staring at my upper lip when I was a child, and how I felt compelled to cover it with finger and pretend I had an itch on my face just to avoid the stares.

Light-skinned privilege

Besides the negativity I experienced due to facial hair, my exposure to colorism has been on the opposite end of the spectrum. I have benefitted from light-skinned privilege. As a teen, my peers would say, “When I look at you, I don’t even think you’re Indian.” I think they meant it as a compliment. Frankly, I didn’t know then; nor do I know now, how to take that comment.

I have always been the fair-skinned one of my family. I took after my mother, who was considered one of the most beautiful of the five gorgeous sisters of her family. Not because she actually was the most beautiful, but because she was definitely the most fair-skinned.

My sister, however, was dubbed “the dark beauty” of the family. My maasis told her to wash her face with milk to get it to be “Fair & Lovely.”

Passing

Today, my sister and I are, uh-hum, considerably older. She has been married to a white man for more than 15 years. She has often complained of stares she experiences from strangers for the two of them being a mixed couple. Even though I do not relate to what it means to be seen as a mixed couple, I have been, at times, one-half of a lesbian couple. My adult life has been plagued with homophobic stares when I am with a partner.

When I am alone, I am passing. I am passing as “Fair & Lovely” and heterosexual. I have long hair, and except for my way of walking and my dress-down days (which are many), I do not radiate lesbian.

I am among the privileged when it comes to colorism, but the ways in which I am oppressed are often silenced. I find it interesting that “Colorism is the practice of discrimination whereby light skin is privileged over dark skin.” This discrimination is truly a practice, but it is layered.

When I consider my light-skinned privilege along with my sexual orientation and certain other issues, I am often invisible to outsiders.

Of course, it is my choice to silence certain issues, and only to bring up my sexuality in situations where I deem it “safe.” That is a privilege in itself. I can navigate in and out of discriminatory situations just by what I choose to disclose. However, when I feel compelled to silence who I am, it is out of fear. And living in fear is not a pleasant way to exist.

The entertainment industry

Another layer to colorism is what I experience in the entertainment industry. In my twenties, I was active in the Chicago theater community. Currently, I am a member of the Screen Actors Guild and regularly audition for television and film roles in Los Angeles. I experience the opposite of colorism in this industry. I often audition for roles for East Indian characters and am asked if I am mixed race, or if I really am Indian. By being light-skinned, I am may not be dark enough to be seen as Indian on stage or the small and big screens.

Yet, I do still have the privilege of being lumped into the category of “ethnically ambiguous” actors. Unlike my dark-skinned East Indian actor counterparts, I am invited to audition for roles that have nothing to do with my ethnicity.

Not so down with the brown

This notion of not being brown enough to be truly Indian has not been limited to the entertainment industry. I experience it with my fellow South Asians as well. I often feel when my South Asian peers use expressions such as “down with the brown,” they don’t consider me part of that peer group. I think it could be because I speak no Indian languages fluently. Also, since my parents have passed, I don’t have a deep Indian familial connection.

Hyper-awareness

Skin color has affected my life by making me hyper-aware of when I am a benefactor of privilege and when I am not. I think this hyper-awareness of my skin color is not a hindrance. It has developed my keen eye for colorism, and allowed me to use my voice to fight when I see light-skinned privilege used against dark-skinned people.

Yet, it has also made me accept that there are parts of who I am that are still oppressed despite my fair skin. I see that oppression, colorism, racism, homophobia, and health stigmas all play roles in how the world sees me and how I see the world.

Colorism and its immeasurable impact

Colorism is the privilege of light skin over dark skin. It is one form of discrimination that cannot be measured as more or less impactful than other forms of discrimination. For a person who finds herself in many marginal groups, colorism is a dance of privileges and silences and fear and empowerment and invisibility.