Throughout history, human beings have always been fairly tribal creatures, focusing on physical, linguistic, and geographical differences to delineate themselves from their others. The social construct of race is something that runs deep in the fabric of our world, separating ethnic groups from one another. Colourism, however, is a little more complex than this. It typically exists within individual racial groups, thus further contributing to the erstwhile concept of tribalism, and generating tribes within tribes, within tribes. Although no country in the world is fully immune to having some of its citizens possessing such views, the concept of colourism is one that is particularly prevalent in Asia. From the plentiful tea gardens of Bangladesh, to the bustling cities of China, right through to the mountainous regions of Saudi Arabia, the term fair is usually interchangeable with the term beautiful.
According to the OED, the term racism refers to:
“Prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against someone of a different race based on the belief that one’s own race is superior.”
Colourism, however, refers specifically to:
“Prejudice or discrimination against individuals with a dark skin tone, typically among people of the same ethnic or racial group.”
Colourism (as well as being an innately foolish concept) carries a great deal of political, as well as social, resonance. It is linked to social hierarchies and rigid class structures, especially since, in the East, darker skin tones are associated with outdoor manual labour, whilst fair skin is associated with sheltered, indoor lifestyles, which tend to be characteristic of the nobility.
It’s easy for us living in the West to point fingers at the East; the mental epidemic of colourism seems to add yet another thing to our ever-growing list of reasons as to why those cultures are barbaric, and why western culture is superior. But European influences have also contributed to the shaping of these chromatic ideals: the extensive process of globalisation has resulted in the pervasion of Western media and culture in the East. Bollywood is becoming increasingly popular in many parts of the world (from Spain to Saudi Arabia) but, at the same time, Hollywood undoubtedly has a cultural monopoly on our cinematic preferences. The Eurocentric ideals of beauty promoted in Hollywood movies (usually on a subconscious level) is simply reinforcing the already existing prejudices held in most parts of Asia. Such ideas are further propounded by the legacy of Western colonialism in places such as India, Indonesia and Pakistan; the belief that there is a pre-existing relationship between light skin and power is extremely popular, and although structures such as the Hindu caste system have been in place for millennia, the legacy of Western colonialism has attached a sense of biological, as opposed to purely social, determinism to these hierarchies.
Writer Mari Santos wrote, in an article about colourism in Filipino culture: “The post-Spanish colonial Philippines looked to none other than the Virgin Mary for beauty inspiration. According to Filipino scholar Nicanor Tiongson, Filipinos wanted to resemble the sculptures of saints found in their Catholic churches during this time period […] the Tagalog phrase “Mukha kang katulong,” which translates to “You look like the help,” is a fairly common insult within our community. As a teen, I remember it being used to poke fun at an aunt who had gotten a suntan.”
In Korea, cosmetic surgery is often given as a gift to teenagers, and skin-bleaching is an extremely popular procedure undertaken. In Bangladesh, the nation’s favourite skincare brand is Fair & Lovely, which habitually has advertising campaigns demonstrating the splendid lightening effects of their creams. Fairer girls are seen as more desirable, more marriageable, and more employable, and there is a whole plethora of terms to describe the ‘unpleasantness’ of dark skin.
Four out of ten women surveyed in Hong Kong, Malaysia, the Philippines and South Korea, admit to using a skin-whitening cream on a regular basis. Professor Harsh Verma from the University of Delhi found that in many Asian cultures, colourism is taught to children in the form of fairy tales; just as the Grimms’ fairy tales featured light-skinned princesses or maidens, Asian mythological protagonists are typically fair and depict virtue, purity, and goodness. A light complexion is therefore equated with feminine beauty, racial superiority and power, and continues to have strong influences on marital prospects, income and status.
Western Asia is no exception to this societal ill: partly due to the modern day popular practice of hiring South Asian expats as servants (read: the Kafala System), but also due to their historic practice of importing dark-skinned slaves from Africa, many Arab cultures also display a strong preference towards light skin. The term “Abd” (meaning slave) is still, shamefully, sometimes used in general reference to dark-skinned individuals. In Israel, light-skinned Ashkenazi Jews are often looked upon more favourably than their darker-skinned Sephardim counterparts.
According to Hanna-Johara Dokal, a journalist of Yemeni heritage, “the slave trade has ingrained the idea that black skin is sub-human. Consequently, dark-skinned Arabs are also ostracised […] I became all too aware of colourism amongst Arabs as a young adult with Yemeni heritage. […] The Al-Akhdam tribe of Yemen are deemed the lowest class, because they are black.” Elsewhere in the Arab world, Saudi Arabia is also guilty of possessing an embedded culture of colourism: although Saudi is home to a significant Afro-Arab minority, “white” Saudis tend to be favoured, and (rather like in South Asia, where arranged marriages are a norm) people seek fairer spouses for themselves, and for their children.
Zahra Haider, a Pakistani writer, was only nine years old when she started using Fair and Lovely cream.
“I was compared to Mowgli constantly and called things like ‘Kaali Kaloti’ (dark-skinned woman) by my Pakistani peers. My sister was born with fairer skin, and compared to a sweet, fair “China doll.” People would compare the two of us and look at me inquisitively with the question “what happened to you?” Later in life, colourism crept into my personal relationships. My ex-boyfriend was half Emirati and half Iranian. His other Emirati friends would constantly taunt and mock him for looking “Pakistani,” because apparently, that is an insult. He’d get flustered and annoyed, and project his anger onto me – making fun of my culture, saying I was too “brown,” and declaring he would’ve never gone out with me if I had a “Pakistani” accent.”
Another source, of a British-Pakistani background, told us about her experiences as a girl with dark skin in a South Asian family: “I was always seen as ugly- the blackie of the family. My sisters are much fairer than me, so I was always compared to them. They were always praised for their beauty and fair skin, while I was told, from a really young age, that nobody would ever want to marry me.”
It’s deeply saddening to think that the extent of pigmentation of a child’s skin in some parts of the world can dictate their future prospects and, often, their self-esteem, while, for the most part, we in the West celebrate ‘tanned’ skin. In most parts of Asia, having light skin is an asset, rather like being tall or having a sharp jawline here in the West.
Beauty standards are damaging, but we are all guilty of (in one way or another) attempting to conform to them. It is clear that the notion of colourism is one that is deep-rooted in Asian cultures, although, just a few years ago, such ideas were prevalent throughout Europe, too. I wish I could end this article on a more optimistic note, but the inescapable reality is that, as a collective human race, we are far from achieving Martin Luther King’s dream of people being judged primarily by the content of their character rather than the colour of their skin. We judge others based on laughable criteria such as height and facial symmetry and skin tone. Maybe someday this will change, but for now, the popular practice of skin whitening remains the basis of a multi-billion pound industry.
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