11/16/2023 0 Comments Sun reflector for tanning faceBut when I look at her, what I see is a Black woman who clearly has white ancestry. Yes, I love Beyoncé, and because I’m not blind, I can see that she is an absolute babe. In the West, colourism is impossible to escape.Īlthough representation is slowly-very, very slowly-getting better, the majority of successful and famous Black women whom we can look up to are light with Eurocentric features. Colourism exists everywhere in the African Diaspora where slavery or colonisation brought with it the imposition of white supremacy. For Black people, this usually means that our appearance is increasingly validated by our peers and by society when we have lighter skin, narrower noses, or a looser curl pattern. I had understood that as my brown skin became black, so too did my beauty slip away with it.Ĭolourism is the system whereby people within the same race are considered more beautiful the more their features approximate whiteness and Eurocentricity. Yet, through my aunt’s not so subtle warning, I had learned that tanning wasn’t for me. I hated spending summer days with my white friends because they inevitably wanted to go somewhere to tan. I would look for shaded areas to hide away from the sun almost religiously. During those months, long flowy pants, caps, and 50+ sunscreen lotion were my best friends. Each summer, I diligently avoided the sun at all costs. Since then, every time I (unintentionally) tanned, I genuinely felt hideous. That day was the last of my short life that I ever actively tried to tan. I don’t think my aunt realised the impact those words would have on me. “But why would you want to tan?” she asked. How amazing! I was going to be pretty, and I got to do a grown-up thing. They taught me that tanning was desirable in its capacity to make girls prettier. To me, tanning was this cool and cute thing that teenage girls did in the summer, and now I was going to be just like those girls in the very much age-inappropriate magazines I secretly loved to read. She turned to me as I was basking in the sun and asked, a little amused, “What are you doing?” “I’m tanning!” I answered. My auntie pulled out her parasol and carefully adjusted it before quickly hiding under its shade. The sun felt snug and delicious on my back. I remember arriving at the beach and plopping myself excitedly on my beach towel, one of those white ones with blue stripes. The summer I turned 10 years old, I went on holiday to a beach town somewhere in France with my auntie and uncle. By Sarah Meron / RaceBaitR*, AFROPUNK Contributor
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