Marisa

Carmen

Jysomae

Tiffany

 

” I was born the colour of a cup of very milky tea. Most of my cousins were boys who shared this ice cream cone complexion so I never gave it much thought, until I turned 11 or 12 and I was officially not seen as a child anymore. At this point my fair skin was something that became somewhat of a burden. While my boy cousins and my brother were allowed to go out and play on the road in the sun I had to stay indoors. I wasn’t allowed to go outside and get burnt in the sun and I wasn’t allowed to get hurt in case a bruise or scratch caused marks on my skin. 

 

When I got a little older I started noting the snide remarks from other girls. If someone had a problem with my attitude, if someone had a problem with my words or thoughts, if someone had a problem would anything, I’d always hear the same thing – “Oh she’s so ugly. Fair for nothing.” As if my fairness was a gift that was wasted on me. As if attacking my fairness was a way to break me down because I was supposed to hold it in such high regard.

 

 

I was a little bit older when I began noticing boys.  And then once again, if a tall dark handsome stranger tried to chat me up and ask for my number, I’d always get the same response from friends or family. “Don’t you want to have pretty babies?”. So at 16 the responsibility of my future children fell squarely on me while this dark man bore none of that weight. Once again my fairness was a gift that I was squandering by not wanting to pass it on down to my children.