Dust. Dirt. Brown. I can’t quite find the right word to describe my skin color. It’s not that I’ve really had issues with my skin color. I mean, I’ve grown to accept the infinitesimal qualities that come with it. You can’t tell very well when I blush. I’m like a chameleon, with spotty color here and there; it’s not even colored all the way. When an uncomfortable moment comes, my facial expression might very well give me away, but never my skin. I’m able to adapt to summer heat waves. In the summer I take on a darker coat that with wintertime I slowly efface.
I want to love my coat. I want to embrace my dark skin that houses my soul, which I am ashamed to admit contributes to some of my insecurities. I know, I’m not twelve anymore, but let me just deal with this for a moment. Especially when that color comes from my father. The one person I care nothing for, or rather cares less about my brother and I, gave me the only thing he ever cared to give me after birth: his appearance. I’m actually the exact same replica of my father’s mother. You should see how everyone stares at me (from his side of the family) when we visit them, as if their mother was breathing and talking right in front of them. Perhaps, that’s the reason why I associated my big nose, my dark texture, and round face to become negative, repugnant qualities. It’s as if the world transpired to remind each and every day, of the face that was responsible for the issues my mom deals with every day of her life, I used to think.
There was a time, when I wanted to stay indoors to retain the light, not quite as dark, color that would imitate that of my mothers’. Today, I can ignore any comments that attempt to degrade me based on skin color, but the funny thing is that the most offending comments always end up coming from family members – very close ones at that.
You see, I come from a very colonial background, a traditional machista Mexican family. We all come in various shades of dark brown - hazel, chocolate milk, and even white. It is customary to have that one guera in the family, and the negra. If you’ve seen me, you can very well guess my nickname growing up. They always have a joke about how -since my mom’s hospital bed was next to an African American lady - the nurse must have traded babies. Growing up, as family members retold the story countless of times, I felt embarrassed, but I accustomed myself to accept this and to laugh. I confirmed whatever they felt about color. The cries and exultations of adults in our family when a light colored cousin was born were never lost on me. If one came to the dark end of the brown spectrum, they’d be a chuckle, but I don’t like to think that there’s any hate. No, it was more of a sense of relief when a white colored baby was born – adoration quickly ensued.
I don’t know that I was treated unfairly, different perhaps, and I would really rather not think back on all those moments where I was for I would like to keep the image that I hold so dear about my family. Tragic events not too far from the present do not allow me to do this, and I know they aren’t horrible people, so I’ll stop here in the present.
I just want respect, that which is bestowed on everyone else. I’m not perfect, and being a woman I grew up apologizing for many – too many - things that I now realize I never should have apologized for in the first place. I’d rather you insult me on my deficiencies rather than on my skin color, as if I there were inherent undesirable characteristics that come along with pigment. If you ask me, it’s a cheap trick. If you want to insult me, come at me, but without any references to color. One day you will become mature, and realize how much this hurts. One day doesn’t erase this moment or the ones I am sure are still to come. Good thing I can move on and have the ability to not dwell on this, just don’t’ do this often please. I don’t want you to repeat this with your children, or in front of my children (if I ever have any). I lose respect quickly for you if you cannot look past color, even if you are very dear to me. I will always love you, and treat you with respect, but I can never fully respect and trust you if cannot look past the tone of my skin.
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