Last time, I talked about my own struggles growing up brown - how I was constantly made fun of for my unpronounceable name, my body hair, and my skin color. This time I’m here to represent the millions of brown people who don’t have a voice.
I’m here for the queerbrown people who can’t come out to their homophobic parents, for the trans brown people who aren’t given the attention and recogition they deserve, for the disabledbrown people who are disowned or ignored by their family, for the poorbrown people who give up everything other take for granted just to survive, for the brown girls who are expected to be submissive to men, for the brown people who are scoffed at for their accents or appearance, and for the brown people who are ridiculed for their culture as white people steal it and make it “hip”.
Until all of those problems cease to exist, brown people will continue to be angry and more importantly we will continue to fight to reclaim our culture.
So here I am, your local ethereal queer Bengali, to reclaimthebindi once again :~)
My skin has went to light to dark to not so dark to dark and back my whole life. And it took me 18 years to be okay with that.
My parents and grandparents applied tumeric to my skin when I was a baby then began buying fair and lovely for me every time they went to India. I was always told how pretty I would have been if I wasn’t so dark. Whenever I posted pictures I’ve had to make sure my lighting washed me out or a filter never revealed how dark I truly was. As you may notice, my filters used to be extreme just to hide the color of my skin.
Then one day my cousin asked me who even decided that dark skin wasn’t as pretty as light skin and that made me think a lot. I stopped wearing fair and lovely, I enjoyed beaches and the sun and I was happy. It took me a long time but I am happy with the way I look.
Until I went to India this summer. Where every house I went to, someone would mention how dark I got then blamed my mom for it. Everyone asked her why they would let me get this dark as if my skin color was a disease that needed to be treated. And now I’m forced into applying fair and lovely twice a day.
I swore to never let my child feel the way I do about her skin color. I never want her to. And I don’t want anyone else to feel that way about themselves. You’re beautiful despite the color everyone thinks you should be.