Today’s topic personally affects me, and I was in two minds about writing this post. However, if I do not speak for myself, companies and two-a-penny social influencers have taken it upon themselves to be my mouthpiece. The falsetto tones of social media and corporate marketing viscerally offend and irk me.
Colorism, the phoenix, once again rises out of the ashes of lockdown protests
The recent BLM has had a ripple effect across the world, and my heart swells with pride when I see anti-racism protests outside America, as clearly, despite our best efforts, we have not forgotten our humanity.
These protests have spurned broader debate around racism and colorism. Colorism is defined by the Oxford Dictionary as “prejudice or discrimination against individuals with a dark skin tone, typically among people of the same ethnic or racial group.
My colorism experience
From my birth, colorism has been a part of my journey, as it is of many dark-skinned Indian women. Even if I were not obsessed with fairness, those around me are.
Social media influencers, namely Indian origin Instagram influencers, would have us believe that it is the one-off snide comment that aunties/uncles throw their way. Or that its Bollywood’s obsession with fair-skinned actors that epitomizes colorism.
My problem with this approach (apart from it being codswallop) is that it does not portray the full extent of the humiliation, invasive and insidious nature of colorism that I or any other dark-skinned Indian woman experiences.
Let me give you an example from my own life.
Eight years ago, as part of my MBA, I, along with my classmates, had a short work placement in Bangalore for a well-know global software company. I had never met so many doctorates in data, engineering, software, or so many alumni from elite American and Indian universities working under the same roof. The labour force was not only highly educated and skilled but also benefitted from an international outlook.
On our final evening, the head honcho of the Bangalore office along with my classmates and others attended drinks and dinner. Head honcho – a man in his fifties with impeccable credentials – sat next to me, and at one point, this is what he announced to all my classmates, “no-one will marry her in India, because she is too dark.”
In a fraction of a second, this man of authority reduced my entire identity, value system, education, gender, to just my skin-tone. What is the point of his Ivy League education if when he looks at me, all he sees is my dark skin? My colour?
That’s colorism for you.
Secondly, my brothers and uncles have all married women who are of a fairer complexion than them. My sisters and aunts have not had the opportunity or the privilege of doing the same. They have married men who are much darker than they are.
As Georgina Lawton rightly points out, “Colourism is a feminist issue because black men are allowed to be dark-skinned where women are not.”
My twopence
I live and breathe colorism. It affects my daily choices from the food and drink I consume, the colours of my clothing, make-up to the time of day I choose to be outside.
For me and many like me, this is an inescapable truth of our identity. I unapologetically use lightening products and countless studies, show that my career and personal life are “brighter” when I have fairer skin.
The leech-like instinct of social media influencers
Ordinarily, I don’t mind Instagram influencers peddling goods for a buck. I get that their contribution to society is zero and that they are merely an extension of the marketing budget of whichever product they are promoting. I’ll admit that when they appear to be “authentic” I am more likely to buy said promoted product.
However, like C grade celebrities, some influencers readily jump onto the bandwagon of the day’s news cycle, which could be BLM, racism, or colorism.
There are no suitable words or phrases in the English language to express how offensive I find this.
Based on the fact that you are Indian and may/may not have experienced “colourism” via aunt’s commenting on your skin tone, you think you are qualified to speak on my behalf?
I think not.
What is worse is how these influencers encourage women of color to say “no” to fairness creams and “embrace” their natural skin color.
The infernal audacity and the temerity of these two-bit marketing workhorses shocks me. I cannot get over is how these female Asian influencers have suddenly grown a conscience and are tapping into my pain caused by systemic subjugation and patriarchy so that they can sell more Pandora bracelets or peanut butter.
Our knights in shining armor, Johnson & Johnson??
Johnson & Johnson, a family-owned business, was one of the first skincare companies to announce it was withdrawing its whitening creams from Asian markets.
Johnson & Johnson will discontinue the Neutrogena Fine Fairness line and Clear Fairness in the Middle East and India.
Bravo.
On the surface, this would appear to be a defining moment for the fight against colorism, and I would, therefore, urge you to read between the lines.
The only whitening/ fairness cream that matters in India is Fair & Lovely, which has about 80% of the market share.
Fair & Lovely’s sales were c. USD 550 million in 2019. In a country, where 200 million people live in dire poverty, approximately 1 in 6 individuals bought a Fair & Lovely product in 2019.
Johnson & Johnson’s comparable market share is so small it doesn’t even register in the data collected.
Refusing to sell whitening creams, in my opinion, will not hurt Johnson & Johnson’s bottom line. However, a very bright marketing person rightly believes that this will repair Johnson & Johnson’s tarnished reputation and boost sales.
Well done, smarty pants. However, it is neither “check” nor “checkmate” for Fair & Lovely or colorism.
Closing
All my summer rants are now over. I’ll revert to writing about skincare – promise!