If you've had even a fraction of the experience that I've had as a South Asian-American with lots of desi friends of the female variety, then you've heard this before. You might have even exclaimed something similar yourself.
But when does the fear of getting a couple of shades darker in the sun turn into a serious societal disadvantage? During the summer season, I've heard some friends discuss the consequences of having darker skin in both serious and humorous contexts--everything from how your marriage prospects are limited if you have darker skin or how disappointed your parents will be when they see your new shade after a day under the sun. I don't believe in any of it, but it's remarkable how many intelligent, bright, and capable women do.
Some women I know call the fair skin obsession complete bullshit and recognize it as remnants of a colonial legacy that the British instilled in South Asians for two centuries: White is beautiful and powerful, Dark is native, uncivilized, ugly.
Two South Asian women sit in front of two different beauty advertisements in India.
Far too many, however, live by the rule of fair skin as a standard of beauty--by photoshopping their profile pictures, choosing favorable Instagram filters to make themselves appear lighter, using skin creams that could have detrimental effects on their skin, or "casually" sliding comments into conversations that establish that their skin tone is fair, in case anyone was thinking otherwise:
"This polish is pretty--but my skin is so pale that it just wouldn't have the same effect...but Afsheen, you should try it!"
South Asian women using fair skin as leverage over other South Asian women in social situations has got to be the worst of it all.
We might even participate in the fair skin obsession without realizing it; I know I've had those moments myself--choosing an outfit that brings out a lighter complexion or buying a foundation that's just a bit lighter than it should be...
So what should we do about it?
First things first, recognize that your "preference" stems from a philosophy ingrained in South Asians for over two hundred years. To put it simply, white ain't all that.
Second, the woman-on-woman hate and passive aggressive commentary on skin has got to stop. I've had enough of attending halaqas or other sisterly gatherings where the conversation is pretty much guranteed to swerve towards two topics: Shahrukh Khan's latest movie and skin tone.
The whole fair skin obsession is particularly surprising in a South Asian Muslim context. When I hear desi Muslim women participating in the conversations or arguments on fair skin--we all seem to collectively avoid the elephant in the Ummah--as an insanely diverse community, we have Arab, Arab-American, African and African-American sisters that we interact with--of course we are all going to have drastically different skin tones. To establish that one type is superior over another (or more beautiful, or clean, or whatever "synonym" of superior you use), is insensitive, unnecessary, and ultimately, just a gross leftover of colonialist thought that we should all abandon.
Third, the brothers who "prefer" fair skin and their similarly thirsty mothers need to be called out and educated--or kicked to the curb. A bride or girlfriend with a fair complexion is not guaranteed to have a certain level of spirituality, piety, innocence, or higher chance of getting into medical school. The sooner that the men in our communities stop erroneously justifying these preferences, the better off we'll be.
Moral of the story? Light girls, medium girls, dark girls, and everyone in between: your skin tone is about as socially relevant as your Neopets username (so, not at all). Anyone who tells you otherwise is not worth your time.
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