Colorism is a Thing

This time last year I was just making it to Accra, Ghana! I’ve yet to blog about it, but a recent social media debate made me dig up some of the thoughts I wrote down while I was there. Folks have been speculating about Lance Gross’s Instagram pic, a couples pic where a darker skinned woman is alone without a man.

There are those who argue that her portrayal is one of Sapphire– the angry, bitter brown girl who can’t get or keep a man. These stereotypes are well researched and documented. It’s the other side of the argument that got to me: the ill-informed “Stop bashing men just because they like light skinned girls” side.

Colorism is a thing. It is a well documented, proven, and pervasive thing in many communities of color- from the freedom some former slave owner’s gave their biracial children, to paper bag tests, to the recent resurgence of skin bleaching. The message of all of those is clear: Light skin is something to covet, and dark skin is something to shun or erase. And to many, light skinned women are objects to be acquired, and dark skinned women are objects to be ignored. 

Last year, while preparing for my trip to Ghana, my line sister sent me an email with everything from what to pack, where we were going, and what to expect. Knowing my strong sense of Blackness, she started off with the biggest shock: “First, don’t be surprised if people refer to you as a white person. The word for foreigner is “obruni” which literally translates to white person. The first foreigners were white English-speaking people, so people use the term interchangeably. Also, they don’t have to deal with the cultural nuances of “blackness” that we often explore, so they may call you white because of your fair skin tone.”

At Wli falls on New Years Day

I did the mental preparation for this. And let’s be honest, I’ve been called white by other Black folk here in the US for everything from my skin tone to my grammar to my eating habits. I could easily mentally prepare for that. This ended up not needing much preparation as I only heard it from one family friend who said it as a joke and explained the translation. I did not mentally prepare for the colorism.

“Ghanian men like light skin girls” I was told on our first night out with friends. I rolled my eyes. Close friends know I don’t shy away from conflict and heavy conversation. But I did not want to explain and debate the much too often discussed topics of colorism, colonialism, and coonery a few days into my first time on the continent. So I let it slide.

Later that night, I heard “Hey, Light skin. Light skin?” “It’s Kayla”, I said with a bemused smile. “Yeah, well you are light skin.” “And?,” I replied, “I’m a lot of other things too. That’s not a compliment.” He smirked, “So you don’t want to be called light skin?”  “I want to be called Kayla,” I said.

At Elmira Castle in Cape Coast. The fortress was the last stop for many slaves before embarking on the Middle Passage.

The conversation moved on, until I heard this oft-repeated phrase later in the night: “Light skin girls have attitudes.” This I could not let slide, especially after a few rounds of drinks. “If we do it’s because we get tired of having men constantly in our faces.” I snapped. “What?” he asked. “Sometimes we do have attitudes. Sometimes it’s because the girl is stuckup. And sometimes it’s because you’re the fifth guy of the night who feels entitled to our bodies and phone numbers and personal space. You don’t even know us. You don’t even see us. You just see the color. And that’s nothing.”  “Nothing? So you don’t want people to see you as light skin?” he asked. 

Here is what I said, and what I wish those commenting on Lance Gross’s pic would understand: I know what my skin looks like. I don’t want to be valued and fetishized because of it. Light skin is only valued because of its proximity to white skin. Value my intellect, value my personality, value my sense of humor. And physically I have way better things going for me, if we want to go there. 

Stumbling in after our first night out in Osu

When we allow ourselves to be called light skin as a compliment, we reduce ourselves and marginalize our darker sisters. When we tell people to “Just love the way God made you”, we discount our sisters’ feelings. When we say “It doesn’t matter who you love” in response to critiques of colorism, we are similar to those who say “All Lives Matter” in response to critiques of racism. When we ignore our own privilege, we continue the cycle of oppression. When we silence others, we are no better than the dominant groups who silence us. 

The night before we left Accra, we reconnected with the same friends. At the first bar, a guy walked up to us before we could even enter the patio. As soon as we sat down, he turned to my line sister and said “You are dark skinned. You are like my sister. She is light skinned, so she could be my wife.”  At the second bar, a drunk guy touched his beer bottle to my face before complimenting my color and spilling the beer all over the table. At each of these moments I gave a knowing look to the “Light skin girls have attitudes” friend. As we cleaned up the table, I simply said “See what I mean?” He simply said, “I didn’t realize it before.”

Colorism is a thing. You may not have realized it before. But what will you do now?