With Skin White As Snow

Whiteness has always intrigued me.

I have experienced several instances throughout my life where I yearned to “be white.” The books I read and the people I watched in films, movies and television shows as a child in Singapore were mostly white — not many looked or lived like I did. I was enraptured by the characters’ glamorous lifestyles, their values, their way of dress and even their food. As a teenager attending international high school in Dubai, I envied my white girlfriends whose parents would allow them to freely date, wear short skirts and even talk back during an argument. I wanted their self-confidence in social circles, their clear fair skin and their curvy bodies that seemed to make them so popular with the boys.

And there I was, a flat-chested, brown-skinned, acne-prone South East Asian girl. I was quite confident when it came to academics but no matter how “cool” I tried to dress or act, no matter how much I avoided the sun and applied sunblock in the hopes of developing clear fair skin, I could never attain the “whiteness” I desired.

As I got older and grew more comfortable in my body, I eventually realized how short-sighted my adolescent desires were. To me, whiteness has always been as much about and beyond skin color. There is a certain status, lifestyle, class, level of education and prestige associated with whiteness. Simply put, whiteness is privilege. The “whiteness” I desired was not white skin but the privileges that came with being white.

When I look at skin-whitening ads on TV or in magazines ( these usually come up when I’m in South East Asia), I am revulsed. But I know that a part of me is paying attention. I own a bottle of exfoliant that claims to “brighten” my complexion with each use. It sits in my bathroom cabinet and comes out every Sunday for weekly use. People have been quick to judge women who use skin-whitening products. Some say that we are vain individuals with low self-esteem. Or worse, that we are unenlightened victims of internalized colonial oppression. The people who are saying these things probably did not grow up as girls of colour. Anyone who faced constant chiding from their mother, aunts and grandmothers for being “too dark” would probably grow up thinking that something is inherently wrong with the way they look. Skin-whitening facial products not only sell the promise of white skin but its privileges as well — high class, sex appeal, freedom, empowerment and cosmopolitanism. Currently, the skin-whitening market is estimated to be worth $5.6 billion in Asia alone.

The skin whitening phenomenon has a long history which spans the globe. For example, women used ceruse and white lead to whiten their skin during the Greco-Roman period. These were later discovered to be poisonous (Ouch!).  In North America, white women were the target market for skin bleaching well into the 20th century. Marketing towards women of colour only began in the mid-20th century when the press began to notice use of skin whiteners among African-Americans.

For those of us darker-skinned folks, fairer skin has always promised money and power. For example, in Jamaica and Brazil, mulatto women (children from white settlers and black slaves) are prized as mistresses and their children, one shade lighter in turn, moved still further up the social and economic ladder. In Brazil and the Philippines, the elite is overwhelmingly light skinned and has more European features while the rural poor are predominantly dark skinned and have more Indigenous looks. At the risk of conflating these nations’ specific histories together, one thing is clear: having lighter skin means more individual economic and social power.

I’d like to think that as a feminist, I am immune to beauty ideals. After all, I know that the idea of “the perfect beauty” is constructed and sold to women through advertisements and products which drive the capitalist machine. I know the pictures on TV and magazines of women with virtually no pores is nothing more than deft Photoshop skills. I know I’m supposed to be happy with what I have, that I am privileged in my own ways even if it means I don’t have white skin. I know all that.  So why do I constantly fret over the colour of my skin? Who is to blame? Capitalism for playing on my anxieties, which it created in the first place? Other women who police my beauty routine or reinforce the need for constant vigilance when it comes to skin care? The media for perpetuating images of unachievable beauty? Myself for not being able or willing to let go of this beauty obsession?

One of my favourite teachers once said “To be a feminist is to learn to live with contradictions.” I am learning to live with the contradiction of the beauty ideal — impossible to achieve yet always on the horizon. For now, clear and fair skin will continue to be a personal pursuit. But don’t mistake me for an unenlightened victim of vanity, colonialism, capitalism or psychological damage. I intend to fight this battle and maybe one day, I won’t feel the need to reach for that bottle of exfoliant anymore.

Contact the author here: syahidah@morningquickie.com