A Recent Conversation at an Upper West Side Private School
Me: Yes
6th Grader: So, you're just a very light-skinned black?
Me: Yes
6th Grader: Oh, my nanny was black and she was like my second mother . . .
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| The patron saint of all light-skinned Negroes |
A Conversation at an Independent School in Harlem circa 2009
8th Grader: Ms. Cardwell, you're black?
Me: Yes
8th Grader: Oh, I wasn't sure until you opened your mouth and started yelling . . .
Although my race can be confusing to young children who have yet to be introduced to the One Drop Rule, I think that it is clear to most people that I am a light-skinned black person. I have broad features, and from what I can remember of it, my natural hair is kinky and coarse.
I grew up in a family where I was on the browner side of the color spectrum so I never had any doubt that I was black. I remember a conversation that I had with my late cousin Donna Lynn. Donna Lynn was like that fashionable big sister that everyone wishes they had. She wore skintight high-waisted jeans with her straight hair slicked back into a tight ponytail. Her nails were always long and painted a shade of cherry red. One day we were at my grandmother's house in Maryland and I asked her why she didn't pass for white. She looked at me and said simply "why would I do that?" Embedded in that question were a thousand statements about self-acceptance, and racial pride.
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| Donna Lynn as a child |
I have always been interested in the issue of colorism in the black community, but when I saw the preview of Light Girls on OWN I cringed/rolled my eyes/sighed deeply and got ready to be embarrassed. Against my better judgement, I decided to watch so that I would understand what the people on Twitter and Facebook would be talking about the next day. I was disappointed in Bill Duke's previous film Dark Girls, but this one was even worse! Listening to light-skinned women complain about being light-skinned is almost as annoying as listening to white people complain about reverse racism. The experiences depicted in the film have not been my experiences.
For example, I have never:
For example, I have never:
1. Been bullied or picked on because of my complexion. People that I have met may have had preconceived notions about who I am based on the way I look, but I have found that, in general, if you are nice to people they will be nice to you in return. Do I have to try a little harder because I'm light-skinned? Maybe. Have I developed a self-depreciating sense of humor in order to make others comfortable? Perhaps. But so what? All of us adapt our personalities to our environment and our audience.
What was so damaging about Light Girls was the constant reference to darker skinned women as insecure, jealous bullies. I know that I should accept and validate the experiences and pain of the light-skinned women on the show but . . . I don't really feel like it.
What was so damaging about Light Girls was the constant reference to darker skinned women as insecure, jealous bullies. I know that I should accept and validate the experiences and pain of the light-skinned women on the show but . . . I don't really feel like it.
2. Been told or made to feel that I wasn’t black
enough. There was one time in high-school when Brooke Lay said that
I was Afrocentric because I was “overcompensating” for my light complexion. I thought about what she said, considered the fact she claimed that
she was bi-racial even though both of her parents were black, and decided not to
take offense.
3. Been treated "better" by a man because I was light-skinned. I don’t think that I was aware that I was light-skinned until 9th grade, and by that time I was in high-school and it didn’t matter! There were so few black girls at Columbia Prep that we bonded together in friendship and mutual support. Furthermore, my complexion meant nothing to the black boys I went to school with because they had discovered white girls and wanted absolutely nothing to do with any of us (except the day that Spike Lee's Malcolm X came out in the movie theaters and we all went to see it together).
As I got older, I acknowledge that my complexion may have been a draw for many of the men that I dated. However, I learned that if they were attracted to me because I was light-skinned what they really wanted was a white/Asian/ or Latina woman-and usually they went out and got one. I was like a "gateway drug" and there's no privilege in that.
The moment I should have turned the TV off and went to sleep was the moment when Raven Symoné came on and started talking about how she tanned for her show That's So Raven. It reminded me of my students at The Storefront who used to wistfully talk about how white they were when they were babies. There's some Pecola Breedlove madness going on when the subtext is "despite what your eyes tell you, I'm not as black as I look."
The Blacker the Berry, by Wallace Thurman
As I got older, I acknowledge that my complexion may have been a draw for many of the men that I dated. However, I learned that if they were attracted to me because I was light-skinned what they really wanted was a white/Asian/ or Latina woman-and usually they went out and got one. I was like a "gateway drug" and there's no privilege in that.
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| Really Raven? Are we to assume that this is your natural hair color and you just dyed it for the show too? |
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| #truth |
In the end, a documentary that had the potential to elevate our thinking about how black people relate to each other ended up being divisive, over-simplistic, and at times silly (where did India Arie come from?) If you are interested in learning more about colorism read:
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