Now that this …
…is out, I can finally talk about African skin and the “Mighty White”.
Early this year, I was interviewed for a small magazine article. The writer wanted to know a little about my background, my career and my dreams. The interview went from who my favorite school teacher was to whether I think war can truly be just. It was going well until the writer asked, “How much do you think your skin color has played in getting you to where you are?”
“What?” I asked confused.
“The fact that you are light skinned,” he said. “The perception of light skinned African women is the same as that of blond white girls. Light skin is desirable and without people knowing it, they tend to favor women like you because of your skin color.
I thought he was taking the mickey out on me, but as he spoke, the uneasy smile I was wearing quickly turned into a frown of fury.
“Are you honestly asking what I think you are asking?”
“Surely, it must have crossed your mind,” he insisted. “Surely you must have known that the dark skinned girl, the real African girl, is never the obvious choice.”
I ended the interview.
Later that evening, I discussed the question with a Ug blogger. I hoped his anti-imperialist, ultra Pan Africanist views were real and he would rage with me against a culture of superficiality in which being light was akin to being white and therefore was considered to be better. I was disappointed. He agreed with the interviewer.
I know human beings are complex and multi-layered, but there is something very simplistic about us. Despite our best intentions, we are quite banal.
Hundreds of books are written about how to look and why to look. We are told that first impressions – how you dress, how you walk, how you accessorize – are more important than what you have to say. That a shrinking waistline is more desirable than an expanding brain. That if you don’t feel good, look good; it will solve all your problems.
I am all for good presentation, but surely we know appearance is not the end-all, don’t we?
Perhaps I was to blame for the bad interview. After all in 2002 I spoke to a young features writer from The Monitor, who wanted to know about children from mixed race families. I told her the only mix in my family was a mix of absurdity and sanity and I joked about being called ‘albino’ and ‘yellow banana’ in school.
It turned out the article was about being light skinned and the reporter made my lousy comments the center piece in the poorly conceived and badly written story about important light skinned Ugandans like Apollo Nsibambi, Tumusiime Mutebile, Mondo Kagonyera and Maggie Kigozi. My life became theirs in a warped and stupid way.
Aargh!
An old schoolmate whom I disliked as a girl recently turned into a woman I loathe. At a baby shower in July, Miss Repugnant told the expectant mother that she envied her.
“You have a beautiful home, a doting husband, a good job and now you are going to have a nice brown baby,” she said.
A. Nice. Brown. Baby.
When I asked her what she meant, she told me everyone wants a brown baby. A light skinned baby.
“Brown babies are beautiful,” she said. “No one wants a ki-black one.”
I could have bitch slapped her. I could have really knocked her block off if I wasn’t wearing a skirt and I hadn’t made a New Year’s resolution to try harder to be a lady.
I really thought that as a society, we had moved past this stupid, stupid thinking. I really thought we had.
You know that repulsive television commercial from Fair and Lovely? You know the one in which a girl can’t get a job because she doesn’t have light skin, but thankfully Fair and Lovely is cheap and affordable and she can get a new color and a new job? Why is that horrible, retrogressive commercial still running on our television stations? Why?
Why are our supermarkets filled with cosmetics from Johnson and Johnson that promise to brighten your color and return you to the fairness of your youth? Why is there a such a high demand for these products? Who is buying them? Who is falling for this stupid lie?
Why, when, how, why did we go back to that place where looking more white was the preferred state? Hadn’t we moved past that? Really, hadn’t we?
One of the reasons Africa is such a beautiful place is its diversity. The beauty of our skin is part of that diversity, from the smooth midnight black of the Nuer to the olive hues of Somalia. I am proud to be African, regardless of my color. I think the black, the brown, the chocolaty, the yellow are all gorgeous and are a variety we should glory in. We should not uphold the lighter because it is the whiter. Banish the thought. Banish it!
I know people like Miss Repugnant and the Ignorant Interviewer may be in the minority, but the fact that they exist at all drives me up the wall. It certainly doesn’t help that a respected cosmetic giant like L’Oreal has joined the multi-million dollar skin lightening industry.
And then …
And then during dinner last week I said my given name was Tumwijuke and someone said with a smirk, “Oh, now I know what part of the country you come from.”
So that what, huh? So you know that, so what?
It doesn’t end!
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